


Colors of Love

by FireflySummerwynd



Category: Guns N' Roses, Mötley Crüe, Poison (US Band)
Genre: Glam Metal, M/M, Pagan, Shifters, Zorro - Freeform, hair metal, neko
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:33:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 54,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22134097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflySummerwynd/pseuds/FireflySummerwynd
Summary: In a World where a Neko and/or Zorro only sees in Color when they find their mate, such an event's even more special than simplyfindingthat mate. They get to experience so much more that humans simply take for granted.But what happens if they're guaranteed onlyonemate in their Lifetime, having a second being a rarity, and theylostthat mate? Are they doomed to see in only black-and-white for the rest of their long Lives, or will a few special ones be lucky enough to see in Color again?
Relationships: Bobby Dall/Duff McKagan, Bobby Dall/Nikki Sixx
Comments: 24
Kudos: 6





	1. One

_March, 1983_

_Los Angeles, California_

Nineteen-Year-old Robert _Bobby_ Kuykendall looked up at all the sights around him, no doubt with Stars and a childlike Wonder in his eyes. He’d never been to a City bigger than Harrisburg, Pennsylvania–unless one counted his hometown of Miami, Florida, that is–so this was like Traveling to a completely different Planet. Such sights never woulda been available to him back on the East Coast, especially after growing up as poor as he’d grown up.

Granted, these sights coulda been a lot better than what they were, but there was nothing he could do about that particular problem. Like all Nekos and Zorros, he was completely Color blind since he hadn’t found his mate, which prolly wouldn’t happen for several more Years. Even though he could make out different amounts of Light, all he could see was black-and-white like humans claimed old TV sets played movies and TV shows in. There might be a lil bit of gray thrown in from Time to Time, depending on the actual Colors of things and the Lighting, but that was about it.

Still, he didn’t let that bring him down as he explored his new home, glad that he’d a way of seeming unnoticeable in even the smallest crowds. Bobby attributed that to being part-Fox, though, considering how clever and good at hiding typical Foxes were known to be. It was kinda like being a Cat, or part-Cat to him–good at hiding in plain sight, if he didn’t wanna be bothered by anyone.

He soon found himself outside a bar that didn’t look like any other he’d seen on the Sunset Strip, and not ’cuz of his Color blindness. The exterior _décor_ of the place didn’t look anything like the rock ‘n’ roll clubs and dive bars he’d seen so far, and it piqued his Curiosity. Luckily, he’d his fake ID on him that’d allow him entrance to just about anywhere without really being questioned. Well, he’d get a few looks from folks wondering just how old he really was, but he down-played it by saying he was just a lil baby-faced. Claiming that his older siblings also looked a lil younger than they really were helped him with that since he kept pictures of them in his wallet.

“What can I getcha, kit?”

Surprised by the term the bartender used, Bobby paused in Thought for a moment. “Bud, man.”

“Ya sure you’re old enough to even be here?” he asked, the smirk playing at his lips suggesting that he knew more than he was letting on. “Not that I’ma give a shit, as long as you’re responsible about whatcha do.”

“Then why ask?” the young, aspiring bassist asked curiously. He slapped down a couple bills in payment for the beer once it was handed to him.

“’Cuz I’m the owner of this joint, and I purposely market to a certain crowd most others don’t,” he told him. “Name’s Rikki, by the way. Call me anything else, and I’ll spell your tail fur off quicker than ya can blink.”

“Bobby,” he told him, unable to help his eyes widening at his threat. “Wait, how’d ya know about my tail?”

“Kit, I’m an Elf–and a far more powerful one than you’d think,” Rikki laughed. “Your Glamours’re useless against me and even my wife.”

“That must mean ya market to the supernatural crowd.” He couldn’t help a thoughtful look as he raised the Amber bottle in his hand to his face again.

“Hardly anyone else on the Strip does, and besides–I’ve a friend who likesta get away from that more than he’ll admit,” the Elf chuckled. “One I’d like to throttle more often than I don’t, but hell–he’s a grown man, so I can’t make his choices for him.”

“Well, I know where I’ll be bringing my business to when I’m not out with my band,” Bobby said. “It gets rough when you’ve pushy and nosy humans that won’t leave ya alone, if your Glamour slips like mine do sometimes.”

Nodding, the bartender-slash-owner was forced to turn his attention away when another customer called out to him. Said customer was loud and obnoxious, clearly well beyond tipsy already, despite how young the Night seemed to be at the moment. However, that customer’s identity took the young, aspiring bassist by surprise–nearly enough to make him drop his drink–for a couple different reasons.

Stumbling in the door like he’d been on a week-long bender already was none other than one of the baddest boys in rock ‘n’ roll, Nikki Sixx. He’d a wide smile on his face that bespoke just how drunk he already was at the very least, but anybody who knew his band knew he was likely messed up on something else, too. His long, shaggy black hair hung in front of his face so that his eyes were mostly hidden–not that one could really tell their Color in this Lighting, even if they _weren’t_ Color blind. But there was another big thing that made him catch the younger man’s attention and hold it like a magnet holding a piece of Metal.

For the first Time in his Life as he stared at the older, more experienced bassist, Bobby found that he was seeing in full Technicolor Clarity. He could now make out one Color from another, rather than seeing varying shades of black, gray, and white like he’d seen all his Life. Were he even remotely focused on it, he coulda said with a hundred percent certainty that the bar he was standing in was mostly varying shades of brown with a few splashes of Color thrown in, clearly designed to look almost like a Mountain cabin or something.

Moments later, the object of his attention looked over at him, and he almost wanted to beg the floor to just open up and swallow him whole when he was caught staring. What surprised him, though, was when the bassist started heading in his Direction, his eyes wide behind that black fringe as if he was highly surprised. The younger man was surprised and starting to feel cornered, but as he got closer, he noticed something he hadn’t from across the room. Hidden in that fluffy mass of black hair were equally black kitty ears, which denoted this man’s being a Neko as much as the tail he finally spotted as he got even closer. Part of him didn’t dare hope if he was having the same thing happen to him, but part of him couldn’t help holding his breath in anticipation.

“Holy shit,” Nikki breathed once he finally got to his target.

“Nice way to greet someone,” he chuckled, pretending not to know what he could possibly be shocked about.

“It is when ya finally see Colors for the first Time in your Life,” the bassist said, looking him dead in the eyes.

“You, too, huh?” Bobby asked, unable to help a smile.

“I’d lay money on my drummer’s eyes being about the same shade of molten Chocolate as yours,” he told him. “And I’ve never been able to tell anything beyond T-bone’s eyes just being Dark before.”

“Maybe they are,” the young, aspiring bassist chuckled. “I wouldn’t know since I’ve never met your drummer any more than I’ve ever seen in Color before, either.”

“Well, I’ll be damned–more than I already am, that is,” Nikki laughed. He was starting to sound more and more sober as the seconds ticked by. “Ya _do_ know what this means, right?”

“As long as the same shit about Nekos remains as true as it does for Zorros,” he answered, nodding.

“Wait, you’re a Zorro?” the bassist asked, sounding surprised. “I thoughtcha were a Neko who shifted into a breed with a bushy tail.”

“Nope, I’ma Zorro,” Bobby laughed, eyes sparkling happily. “I get that a lot from Nekos till they see me shift, though.”

“I kinda wanna see that for myself now,” he told him, a smirk playing at his lips.

“Eh, maybe not here,” the young, aspiring bassist said. “Even if your friend _does_ own this place and market toward supernaturals on purpose, I make it a point not to shift in public, if I don’t have to.”

Nikki couldn’t help another laugh at the somewhat shy man’s words, gently squeezing his shoulder as he reassured him that that was fine. The only reason he shifted in here a lot, himself was ’cuz Rikki knew better than to try stopping him when he felt threatened enough to wanna hide. After all, the Elf’d watched him get backed into more than a few corners–figurative _and_ literal–and damn near kill a few folks by coming out swinging.

Heaving a relieved sigh, Bobby gladly joined him at the booth he headed for once said Elf’d handed him his drink, which he could smell clearly. There was quite a bit of Jack in that glass–prolly enough to make up at least a triple shot, if not more–with just enough Coke to make it kinda sweet. Clearly, the bassist liked his shit strong and Dark, but he couldn’t say he was any different at the End of the Night. While he might not’ve been drinking for nearly as long–despite being underage–and likely didn’t have anywhere near the same tolerance, he’d be a liar, if he said he liked weak drinks.

Settling in the booth so they sat across from each other, they couldn’t help simply staring at each other in Silence for a few moments. The young, aspiring bassist finally managed to catch a good glimpse of his newfound mate’s eyes as he brushed his hair back, and he was surprised. Bright and twinkling mischievously, they were a shade of green that wasn’t blue enough to be Emerald, but he couldn’t have named what Stone they reminded him of, if he’d tried.

Laughing, Nikki told him they were supposed to be the Color of Jade–specifically Nephrite–but he’d never known if he’d quite achieved that. That garnered him a cocked brow from the young Zorro sitting across from him, and his grin grew even more mischievous for a split second. A soft gasp rang out as his eye Color suddenly Changed, letting the younger man know he was a fairly powerful Witch in his own right. Now those beautiful eyes matched the Sky on a clear, bright afternoon, and he felt like he could just dive in and drown in them. He’d never seem more gorgeous eyes than these, and he never wanted there to be a moment besides when he was asleep that he couldn’t look into them.

“Whyddaya Glamour them?” Bobby asked curiously. “They’re absolutely gorgeous.”

“Just something special to keep to myself,” he answered with a slight shrug. “I mean, the whole damn Planet knows practically everything about me except when I take a shit and pop a boner.”

“Eh, I guess I can understand that,” the young, aspiring bassist said. He reached up to shove his hair outta his face, frowning when it didn’t wanna stay in place.

“What–don’t like your hair or something?” Nikki asked with a chuckle.

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” he answered. “I just don’t like it being wavy–makes it hard to really do anything with it.”

“Well, I can safely say that I like it wavy,” the bassist told him. “And I’d hate to see it any other Color but that shade of brown–it matches your eyes without being too Light or too Dark.”

Bobby couldn’t help turning a Light shade of pink, quick to realize he was flirting with him. “What if I wanna dye it black, though?”

“Easier to just Glamour it, if ya can pull off a Glamour of that Strength,” he said. “At least then, ya can go back to your Natural Color quicker and easier without having to get an Elf to grow it out five feet for ya, then hack off the dyed parts.”

He couldn’t help laughing at the Thought of this man having hair five feet longer than it already was, which had to’ve been a good two and a-half feet long. After all, he hadn’t failed to notice how much taller than him he was, which seemed to be damn near a foot, if he wasn’t mistaken. Then again, the young, aspiring bassist hadn’t finished growing since most guys didn’t hit that point till they were twenty-one or twenty-two.

That made him cock his head curiously as he wondered how old Nikki was, considering that was something about him that he didn’t know. He didn’t particularly care if he was a lot older than him or not–mates were mates, and age was just a number assigned by humanity. But it’d certainly be nice to know, ’cuz he was sure this Neko lied to just about everyone about his age just like he did, whether it was for the same reasons or not. With that Thought in mind, he finally found his voice long enough to ask him, his tone bespeaking his Curiosity as much as the tilt of his head.

Nikki chuckled and took a sip of his drink before answering him, those gorgeous eyes that he hadn’t bothered Glamouring again still twinkling. He wasn’t expecting him to say that he was only twenty-four, his next birthday not being till December of that Year. Course, that caught his attention since his own birthday was in November, making him wonder just how far apart they really were. Somehow he wasn’t surprised when he told him he was a Sagittarius, which meant he was definitely the Yin to his Yang in being a Fire sign.

Bobby did a quick round of math in his head once he finally admitted he was born on December eleventh, realizing their birthdays were about a month and a-half apart. This Neko was more or less a true Sagittarius as much as he was a true Scorpio, what with his own birthday being on November second. A soft chuckle rang out from across the table when he told him that, and he couldn’t help the smile that came to his face. While he might not go any further than a chaste kiss since they’d literally just met, he couldn’t help wanting to get to know his mate better. Granted, such a thing was prolly better done in quieter, more private quarters than even a bar geared toward the supernatural, and he didn’t keep quiet about thinking so.

Hoping he hadn’t just made a big mistake, the young, aspiring bassist more than willingly left and went home with Nikki that Night instead of Returning to his fledgling band.


	2. Two

Part of the young, aspiring bassist wasn’t surprised by the slightly better-than-grungy apartment he was taken to, but another part’d hoped his mate’d be living better than this. Then again, he supposed he shouldn’t have expected quite so much for a musician whose band only had one album out, and said album certainly coulda done better than what it had thus far. Maybe he shouldn’t have set the bar quite so high, especially when one remembered that Nikki was only twenty-four on top of it.

Tossing his keys on top of the TV that Dominated the tiny living room, the bassist gestured for him to follow him as he started down a short hallway. He couldn’t help the grimace he was forced to hide behind his hair as he stepped over–and very possibly in–piles of garbage and hell-only-knew what else. After seeing the shape of the living room, he certainly wasn’t expecting any better in whatever room the Neko was leading him to.

Naturally, Bobby was more than a bit surprised by the bedroom he walked into, and how it was actually relatively clean, compared to the rest of the apartment. It wasn’t good enough to suit a clean-freak or other germophobe by any means–there was plenty of clutter, trash, and dirty clothes scattered around–but it looked a helluva lot better than what he’d seen up to this point. Maybe that was the Cat in his mate, considering how Cats were notoriously clean for the most part, which’d make total sense. He prolly didn’t like his Space being quite as filthy as the rest of the place, which was obviously shared with at least one other person unless this Neko was just some kinda hoarder.

Flopping across the bed shoved into one corner, Nikki stretched out his insanely long legs and kicked off his boots at its foot. Only then did he roll onto his side and prop his head in one hand, ears twitching as he shot him a grin and motioned for him to c’mon into the room. He responded with a Silent nod as he managed to close the door, starting to feel a bit uncomfortable since he knew they were mated. Would the Neko be willing to wait till he was ready to do anything with him, or would he be pushy about trying to get only one thing outta him, which he wasn’t ready to give yet?

“I know it’s kinda messy in here, but nothing’s gonna bitecha,” he chuckled from where he lounged on his bed. “Well, not unless ya count me, that is–but I don’t bite without some begging and pleading.”

Bobby couldn’t help a laugh as he finally made his way over to the bed. “Well, mates or no, I don’t tend to make a habit of sleeping with someone the first Time I meet them–not unless I’m on the verge of going into heat, anywhore.”

“Anywhore? I like it,” the bassist laughed. “And I’m sure, even in heat, ya don’t let other guys fuck ya.”

“Hell, no,” he answered, shaking his head as he sat down to kick his own boots off. “I’m not letting just anyone shove something into me, knowing it’s more likely to hurt at first than it isn’t.”

“Hey, fair enough,” Nikki told him. “Liar though I can be sometimes, I can’t say I’d have much different a mindset, if I were in your shoes.”

“At least we can agree on that, if nothing else,” the young, aspiring bassist responded.

“I gotta ask, though–where the hell’re ya from?” he asked curiously. “Your accent’s no more native to the LA area than mine.”

“That’s a good question, ’cuz it depends on who ya ask.” Bobby couldn’t help a chuckle. “Far as I’m concerned, I’m from Miami.”

Cocking a brow curiously, the bassist gave him a look that screamed he wanted him to continue, and he made a deal with him. The only way he was gonna keep going, considering some of the painful details, was if he reciprocated by answering the same questions. It was pretty obvious that he didn’t wanna, but he finally heaved a sigh and agreed to his terms, ’cuz he really wanted to know.

Taking a deep breath, the young, aspiring bassist Began with how he’d been told that he’d been born in Miami, Florida. Less than a Year after he was born, his parents’d split up when his siblings were pushing two and three, respectively. Forced to move back home with her parents ’cuz she simply couldn’t raise three kits on her own, his mother’d taken all three of them back to her home State of Pennsylvania. It was when he was three Years old, himself that the family then moved _back_ to Florida, after his mother married his stepfather–Charlie–when he was two.

Nikki listened Intently as he went on to say that the family lived in the Miami area pretty much his entire kithood. It wasn’t till he was fifteen or sixteen that they’d moved back to Pennsylvania, this Time to a suburb about ten miles from Harrisburg. Like any other kid uprooted from their hometown, he hadn’t been very happy, but he’d dealt with it the best he could for being so young. That was why he’d gotten so into guitar, which he’d started playing at the age of ten or eleven before they moved back to Pennsylvania.

“So, you’re a guitarist?” the bassist asked, a smile crossing his face.

“Guitarist first, bassist second,” Bobby chuckled. “And before ya ask, I only made the switch ’cuz every band around the Harrisburg area needed a bassist, not a third guitarist.”

“That’s pretty much my story,” he laughed. “Abandoned by my dad when I was too young to really remember him, dragged all over the country by my abusive mother–when I _wasn’t_ with my grandparents–and turned into prolly one of the worst teenagers on the Planet.”

“Whyddaya say that?” the young, aspiring bassist asked. “I mean, Mama can’t stand the fact that I drink so heavily for only being nineteen.”

“Drinking’s the least of what I do,” Nikki answered. “I can’t even list all the other shit I’ve put in my body at one point or another.”

He couldn’t help his eyes widening as he realized what his mate meant.

“Hey, I’m not gonna try to getcha to do that shit, too,” the bassist reassured him. “Normally, I’d be trying to get my friends to join me, but I know what it could do to ya.”

“I’d rather my heat _not_ be triggered by an upper,” Bobby said none-too-gently. “And I’d rather not be incapacitated to the point that I wind up raped, ’cuz I get close enough to that on my own with my drinking.”

“Well, I can assure ya right now that–no matter what the guys try–they’ll eat their teeth before I let them mess with my mate,” he told him. “Only one who getsta mess with my mate’s me, and Rikki’ll kill me thirteen Times over, if I do that without consent.”

“Hopefully, I can trustcha to keep your word on that, and not be blowing Smoke up my ass,” Bobby managed to chuckle, a slight smile on his face.

From there, the bassist didn’t really give him much more detail about his kittenhood, save to say that he’d started smoking pot around the age of six to impress his mother. He also hated Dogs, particularly German Shepherds, ’cuz his own former stepfather used to sic his on him when he was a kitten. Well, maybe saying he hated _all_ Dogs was a bit of a stretch, ’cuz he actually loved most Dogs, despite being part-Cat.

The young, aspiring bassist couldn’t help a soft chuckle at the boyish grin that crossed his face when he made those admissions. Course, he couldn’t help but find those things about Nikki endearing, ’cuz they got each other on a level most others couldn’t Begin to. It was also amusing to think that an oversized Cat preferred Dogs when it came to pets, whereas he was part-Fox–which was actually part of the canine family–but preferred Cats as pets. But having differences like that’d keep them from being too annoying to one another, which’d be helpful for spending decades–possibly even more than a Century–together.

It wasn’t long before his lack of sleep started to catch up with Bobby, and he couldn’t help the yawn that made him widen his jaw like a Snake. After all, he and his band hadn’t slept much between switching off as drivers on their cross-country road trip out here last week. Somebody’d to drive the ambulance his drummer’d bought that became their equipment van, and his singer was lucky as hell that he’d let him drive his ’78 Chevy. He’d bought that car from his grandmother ’cuz it was the only thing he could afford, and he wanted it to be around for a long Time to come. That car deserved to be treated like it was really from the Roaring Twenties, or maybe even the Great Depression, hence his possessiveness over it.

Not about to possibly let him get into trouble by trying to get home when he was so tired, he could barely think straight, Nikki pushed himself up. He might not have much since he was all but a starving artist in his own right, but he certainly had enough to at least give his mate a clean T-shirt to sleep in. Said young, aspiring bassist started to refuse, but was quick to give in since he was so tired and was soon curled up in his arms, fast asleep with his face tucked against his chest.

Barely after Dawn the next Morn, the bassist was rudely awakened by a _bang!_ and an equally loud commotion that consisted of at least two different voices. Groaning softly into the mass that was tickling his nose, he unwrapped his arm from around the person he’d been holding long enough to wave his hand in the general Direction of his bedroom door. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that the idiots being so loud were his band mates, Vince and Tommy, and he wasn’t ready to deal with them. No doubt they’d been out partying all Night, which’d explain why the apartment’d been so quite the whole Time he was talking to and cuddling with his newfound mate.

Said mate wasn’t the least bit happy about being woken up by all the racket, as evidenced by the irritable _Mraaaaw_ he let out against his chest. Managing to glance down revealed Bobby’s ears tucked back against his head much like a Cat was known for doing, and he couldn’t help a chuckle. He gently kissed the top of his head as he settled down to catch some more _Zs_ himself, still tired after several Days straight of being wired on coke since that was generally his norm.

It didn’t take but a couple more minutes for another loud _bang!_ to ring out, this one from his bedroom door and quickly followed by a _What the fuck?_ Nikki couldn’t help snickering into the soft, fluffy mass of hair he wasn’t accustomed to, but could certainly get used to, if given enough Time. Said hair’s owner grumbled as he lifted his head when the idiot on the other side of the door started pounding on it with their fist. He already knew it was Tommy–or rather, T-bone, as he called him–’cuz Vince knew more than well to stay the hell outta his room, lest he possibly get killed.

“Just keep quiet, and he’ll go away once he gets bored,” the bassist murmured, rubbing his mate’s back.

“Won’t be soon enough for me,” Bobby grumbled into his chest. “Haven’t slept enough lately.”

“I know your pain, sweetheart,” he chuckled, making sure to keep his volume low.

“C’mon, Nik–open up!” they heard through the door as the pounding continued. “Vinnie wasn’t any fun last Night, and I’m bored!”

“I’ma eat him for breakfast, if he keeps on,” the young, aspiring bassist growled, peeping up over his shoulder to glare at the door.

“Ya know, I might just letcha,” Nikki snickered. While his mate’s tail was still, as was typical of any canine that was in a bad mood, his own was starting to flick testily.

_“Mraw.”_ With a mere Thought, he’d shifted into a gorgeous Silver Fox with a few black and white patches interspersed throughout his coat.

“Definitely a gorgeous one,” the bassist chuckled. “Not too sure where ya get your coloring from since your hair’s brown in your other form.”

_“Mraw.”_ Bobby shrugged as much as he could, still glaring daggers at the bedroom door.

Letting out another snicker, he quickly shifted with a single Thought of his own before using his magick to open the door, allowing his drummer to fall flat on his face.

“Fuckin’ fina– _oof!”_ Tommy tried to catch himself, but he was still coasting on too much booze and hell-only-knew what else to manage it.

The bassist couldn’t help a kitty snicker as he remained curled up on his bed, tail still flicking testily.

Seemingly unaffected, the drummer popped up off the floor with a giant grin on his face, not even noticing that he already had company. “Dude, we gotta hang today!”

_“Mrow.”_ Nikki shrugged and lazily stretched his entire body, careful to keep his back turned toward his best friend when he did.

_“Awww,_ c’mon.” Said best friend pouted almost adorably.

_“Mrow.”_ He rolled onto his belly and shot him a dirty look before turning his attention back to his mate, who lay in an identical position next to him.

_“Mraw.”_ Bobby ducked his head slightly when he reached over and started grooming his ears almost lovingly.

The hyper, happy-go-lucky drummer’s eyes dropped to the other figure, which he hadn’t noticed when he’d first gotten the door to open. He stared at the Animal curiously, unsure if it was a Dog, Fox, Coyote, or something else, but thinking that its coat was beautiful all the same. Course, his holding his hand out for it to sniff before he dared to try touching it seemed to take it by surprise, which made him laugh.

Nikki kitty-snickered again as he continued grooming his mate’s ears, letting out a soft _mrow_ that he hoped conveyed his message. He could understand other Cats–domestic or shifted Nekos–like they were speaking English when they meowed at him, but he’d never tried talking to a Fox like that. It’d prolly take both of them a while to figure out what the other was saying in their alternate forms, ’cuz he supposed the difference in their Natural noises when they were shifted would be like a mild language barrier. But after having lived in places like Seattle and especially the Los Angeles area for most of his Life, that wasn’t a problem for him.

Bobby _mrawed_ at his mate in Return as he figured out most of what he thought was supposed to be _Ya really think I wouldn’t teach the dumbass to let an Animal sniff first?_ Still, he was wary as he let Tommy actually pet him since he was obviously a wild one, not to mention amped up on something right now. He was surprised by how gentle his touch was, though, as if he thought he’d break him by stroking that big hand down his back the wrong way or something.

It wasn’t long before the young, aspiring bassist decided he’d enough of being petted for the moment, and besides, he needed to piss since he hadn’t before bed the previous Night. _Mrawing_ again, he looked up at his mate with what he hoped was a suitably desperate look on his face, which made him _mrow_ and point across the hall with a paw. He nodded and darted out the door, bushy tail looking like a blur behind him as he flew across the hall to the disgusting lil bathroom like a streak of Lightning. Nikki couldn’t help a chuckle as he shifted so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, easily hearing his front man’s startled noise at no doubt seeing something streak across the hall and thinking he was hallucinating.

“Since when’d Nikki have white in his fur?” Vince asked, popping his head in the bassist’s door as if looking for the drummer.

“I don’t, nimrod,” said bassist dead-panned with a roll of his eyes.

“Then what the hell’d I just see dart into the bathroom?” he asked, starting to sound like he was Fearing for his Sanity–or rather, the remains of it.

“Prolly my tail.”

Looking up, Nikki saw his mate Returning, his boxers peeking out from under the hem of the shirt he’d loaned him.

“Wait, _you’re_ the Fox that was just in here?” Tommy asked before turning an incredulous look on his best friend. “I didn’t know ya were into guys!”

“Normally, I’m not,” he said, shrugging. “But I don’t have any Power over who my mate is.”

“Wait, you’re seriously…?” The drummer looked surprised, then remembered something Nikki’d never told the Melody section of their band. “What Color are my eyes?”

“Looks like the Hershey’s bar he and I split at Rikki’s last Night,” the bassist answered. “And Vince’s looks about the same shade, before ya ask.”

Turning to the other young man, he posed a similar question. “What Color shirt am I wearing?”

“Dark blue,” Bobby answered without the slightest hesitation.

“What’s with the weird questions, dude?” Vince asked, looking confused.

“Nikki told me that Nekos’re Color blind till they find their mate, and–surprise.” Ruffling his hair, he showed off a pair of ears that looked quite a bit like the young, aspiring bassist’s. “I’m his Fox equivalent, which’re Zorros.”

“Wait, seriously?” The front man’s jaw dropped in shock.

“According to my ma, Zorros suffer from the same Color blindness as Nekos till they find their mate,” Tommy explained. “I mean, right now, my shirt looks almost black to me–but if it looks Dark blue to these two, that means they’ve found their mates.”

“Definitely a bit surprising to be mated to another guy,” Nikki said, shrugging as he pulled said mate down into his lap. “But then again, I know why that woulda happened, so I’m not questioning or knocking it.”

Said bassist let out a threatening hiss that sounded way too much like a Cat for being in his human form at the same Time his mate let out a low warning grown when Vince tried to make a pass at the younger man. Tommy wisely stepped back, hands in the Air like he was surrendering to the cops after having tried to evade arrest or something. He knew better than to get between an overprotective Dom that was defending their mate, whether that mate _needed_ their Protection or not.

After managing to run those two band mates outta his room, he let go of Bobby and suggested they at least get some britches on. He was actually starting to get hungry for once, so he was pretty sure the same was true in the Zorro’s case, as well. The growl the poor thing’s stomach let out as if responding for him made him blush, and he couldn’t help a soft laugh as he leaned down to kiss his forehead.

It wasn’t easy being a starving artist, but they’d to make sacrifices somewhere, if they wanted to live a certain Lifestyle and get their bands off the ground. The slightly older man knew that better than his young mate, who’d just barely arrived in Los Angeles to attempt doing what he’d already been through. He supposed the Zorro’d a lot left to learn, and he couldn’t say that he wasn’t up to the challenge of helping him as much as he could. That was a challenge he was actually looking forward to as much as getting his band, Mötley Crüe, up to even higher heights than they’d reached already. Course, he’d have to hear what his mate’s band was up to before he could really help them, but who knew how that’d go?

Once they were dressed as much as they were gonna be, the young, aspiring bassist let his mate lead him out to the living room. He’d almost a hard a Time getting back there as he’d had on his way to Nikki’s room the Night previous, and that was really the only thing making him Wish he was back at the warehouse he was squatting in with his own band mates. It might be even less than being able to say they lived in an actual apartment, but at least they could walk through it without breaking their necks. But maybe he’d get these idiots to actually clean up a bit, if he spent more Time over here, which could certainly be a good thing.

The bassist grabbed his keys and said he was heading out, uncaring of whether Vince and Tommy actually heard him or not. He grabbed Bobby’s hand, gently lacing their fingers together as he pulled him out the front door, which didn’t truly close behind them. Love or hate them, sometimes he just couldn’t handle his band mates–not even lead guitarist Mick Mars–and right now was one of those Times. He was hungover and coming down from the coke, not to mention just wanted to spend Time with his newfound mate without interruption. Dealing with those idiots who otherwise comprised his band certainly wasn’t on the agenda for today, no matter when he took the young, aspiring bassist back home. With that being said, he moved to straddle his Harley and jammed the key in the ignition as said mate waited patiently next to him.

Bobby’d never ridden bitch before–he’d always been the one in Control of the handlebars, so to speak–but he was actually excited about this. He highly doubted his mate was gonna let him get hurt, no matter where they went to get away from both their bands for a while. Course, even if he _did_ take a stupid risk that landed them in the middle of a wreck, he was pretty sure they’d die together. With that Thought in mind, he moved to climb onto the back once Nikki nodded to let him know he was ready, Caution effectively thrown to the Wind.


	3. Three

_August, 1987_

_Los Angeles, California_

The last four, almost four and a-half Years certainly hadn’t been easy for Bobby, but he felt they’d been a lot worse than they’d needed to be. He was almost at his wit’s End with his biggest source of contention, but that mating pull–which was simultaneously a Blessing and a Curse–wouldn’t let him just throw in the towel and save his own Sanity. Naturally, that led to an increase in his already heavy drinking, and even though he was only pushing twenty-three now, he could damn near drink his mate under both their buses.

Not long after he and said mate’d met–maybe three months, tops–Nikki’d gone to some party after a long Day in the studio to work on his band’s sophomore album. By that point, the younger bassist couldn’t say he didn’t know most of the shit said mate got up to, especially when his back was turned. There just wasn’t anything he could do to stop him, so he didn’t bother wasting his Time and breath trying most of the Time.

Apparently missing him and wanting another fix, the older bassist’d managed to leave said party–even though the homeowner’d a literal lock down system in place to prevent that very thing. Nekkid, bruised, and scraped up from dropping down a Stone wall, he’d managed to get to his car out near the road, which was when everything went to Hell in a handbasket. There were a pair of chicks who’d been trying to get into the party that were waiting outside, thinking maybe they’d manage to sneak in eventually, anywhore. One thing led to another, and the Neko’d soon found his Porsche wrapped around a telephone pole at the bottom of the Hill, neither of the girls in sight.

Upon finally managing to make it to the hospital, he was diagnosed with a dislocated shoulder, which’d hurt like hell to get popped back in. When he’d finally managed to call Bobby to come get him, he was stoned outta his mind on fuck-only-knew what, not that he’d a car to drive home in anymore. A groan ripped through the receiver, but he’d agreed to come get him instead of making him try to walk home high, but he obviously wasn’t happy about it. Once he was finally home in the house they’d long since moved into so as to have privacy from Vince and Tommy, he spent a week whacked outta his head.

It wasn’t long after the Percocet scrip he’d been given in the ER ran out that he started up with more nefarious shit than that. Nikki swore he was still in a lotta pain and needed something to get rid of it, but no doctor’d write him anymore scrips for anything. Being the devious and resourceful Cat that he was–not to mention all the connections he’d made with various dealers–that landed him with what they called _brown sugar_. Obviously not the stuff used for baking, it was actually brown-powder heroin, and it certainly wasn’t a cheap thing to get from much of anywhere. More of his money started going on that shit, especially once Mötley’s sophomore album was released in September of ’83, than anything else. In fact, it was actually _Bobby’s_ meager funds from busting his ass in local bars that paid their rent and utilities every month.

By the Time they’d even started working on their third album, shit’d already spiraled so far outta Control, it wasn’t even funny. Let another two Years pass and work Begin on their fourth album, and it was a Wonder that any of these idiots were still alive. All the younger bassist–who’d just gotten off his first serious tour in support of his own debut album–wanted to do was leave his mate, but the pull was too strong.

“I just dunno what I’ma do when he gets back home,” Bobby sighed, a smoke in one hand and a beer in the other. He and band mate Bret were sprawled out in his and his mate’s living room, just chilling without the notion of being any amount of Creative looming over their heads.

“Yeah, he’s really gotten outta Control, hasn’t he?” the vocalist agreed sadly. “I mean, for all that he was a heavy drinker and coked outta his skull more often than not, he seemed pretty decent when ya first introduced him to us.”

“And that’s part of why I Wish I could just leave him,” he sighed, letting out a drag. “He’s not the same Cat I fell in Love with that Night in Rikki’s bar four and a-half Years ago. Hell, I don’t even know where _that_ Cat went anymore, he’s Changed so much.”

“And all the smack he’s doing doesn’t help that,” Bret said.

“That’s another thing I wanna bean him for more often than not,” the younger bassist grumbled. “He didn’t _need_ that shit to numb _anything_ –he just refused to face the Truth of his Past and Present.”

“Whaddaya mean?” he asked, not knowing a thing about their kithoods.

Even though he normally wouldn’t betray his mate’s Trust, Bobby went ahead and spilled his guts about that very thing to his best friend.

“Well, shit,” the vocalist said, eyes wide as he started to get what–besides the mating pull–had drawn them together like Luna Moths to a Flame.

“Yeah, my point exactly,” he told him. “Sure, drinking’s my way of coping with the shit I’d to deal with as a kit, but I don’t go beyond drinking–I can’t, if I wanna stay safe.”

Bret wasn’t so sure he wanted to know what he meant.

“Think about all the Times I go howler-Monkey insane for a week,” the younger bassist dead-panned.

“What’s that got to do with going beyond drinking, though?” he asked.

“If I get high on coke–or any other stimulant, for that matter–once, it’ll trigger that shit,” Bobby answered. “It happens to Fertiles like me, whether they’re male or female.”

“You’re fuckin’ shitting me,” the vocalist breathed in shock.

“I Wish I was,” he said, shaking his head. “And I don’t wanna be whacked-out on a depressant, ’cuz that could lead to me being gang-raped at best, abducted and sold into slavery as a kit mill at worst.”

“Holy fuck.” Bret’s eyes looked like they were about to pop outta his skull. “No fuckin’ Wonder you’re ready to kill Nikki most of the Time.”

“It’s not that he’s tried to get me to do it with him–he’s kept his word on not doing that,” the younger bassist admitted. “But when ya can’t get any quality Time with your mate ’cuz they’re either too worried about getting their next fix, or so fucked that they’re hallucinating shit and scaring ya into thinking they’re about to kill ya…”

“But yet, ya can’t get away from him ’cuz of that damned mating pull,” he said.

“Exactly, or I woulda left already,” Bobby agreed, nodding. “But if I leave, that’s gonna rip both our hearts to shreds as bad as him dying’ll rip mine to shreds. Well, not quite that bad, if I’m honest, but it’ll be pretty damn close to the same thing.”

The vocalist couldn’t help a sympathetic wince as he reached over to give his best friend a hug, letting him bury his face in his Golden-blonde hair. He wasn’t too sure what he could possibly do to help him, ’cuz he’d absolutely no experience with Nekos or Zorros either one till he’d met his best friend and Nikki. Complicated didn’t even Begin to describe trying to handle these two, and all the booze and drugs consumed by both only made things worse.

Letting out a heavy sigh, the younger bassist killed off his beer before deciding he was ready to call it a Night. Even after roughly a month off the road from their tour, he was still catching up on lost sleep, as was the rest of his band. Not having his mate there with him–and sober so they could actually bond–certainly didn’t make that recovery any easier for him.

Since he refused to sleep in his and the older bassist’s bed, given everything that was going on, Bobby led his friend to one of the guest rooms upstairs. He told him he’d be in the other guest room, which normally woulda garnered a cocked brow from the blonde who was only about three inches shorter. But having been told about everything that was going on between the pair of mated supernaturals, he simply nodded as he Wished him a good Night both of them doubted he’d get. There wasn’t really anything he _could_ say that’d make things better, and both of them were intelligent enough not to bother deluding themselves.

Another month passed, and Poison decided that they were ready to get back into the studio to start working on their own sophomore album. Instead of being rushed into recording roughly a dozen songs in just as many Days, give or take, like they’d been with their debut, they were taking their sweet Time in comparison. They weren’t anticipating this album to be released till easily late-Spring, maybe even early-Summer next Year, which gave them plenty of Time to get Creative without constantly beating their heads into walls. Considering everything going on with Bobby and Nikki, that was prolly the best thing they could do, professionally-speaking.

The younger bassist did everything he could to push Nikki to the back of his mind, but act like that was the last thing he’d done every Time he’d call him. Even though they’d a mental connection–the younger bassist was D’Anu, and his mate turned out to be his Greco-Roman counterpart, after all–he’d purposely ignore him in favor of getting more work done. It never failed to annoy the older bassist to no End, especially when he was actually sober and wanted to talk to his mate, but he didn’t care.

Before he knew it, it was the Beginning of December, and the biggest part of the holiday Season was right around the corner. He hadn’t exactly paid attention to Thanksgiving, both ’cuz he celebrated that kinda thing on the Sabbat of _Mabon_ back in September and ’cuz–aside from his band doing so much better–there wasn’t much he was thankful for. Black Friday was nothing but a headache-inducing joke to him, and other than his band mates, he didn’t really have anyone he’d wanna put himself through that for. Maybe it was one of the most negative ways to view the Season, but Bobby couldn’t help it, and he honestly didn’t wanna. If his mate’d actually been sober instead of continually getting worse, maybe that woulda Changed, but since he wasn’t, it hadn’t.

Having pretty much ignored said mate for the couple weeks or so after they killed their tour leg with another infant band, Guns n’ Roses, he barely noticed when Nikki took off to Japan for a handful of shows. Where he’d looked forward to having him home for _Yule_ in ’84 and ’85, the worse the older bassist’s heroin addiction got, the less he cared about such a thing.

“So, what’re ya gonna do for the holidays, Bobby?” The question was posed by his band’s drummer, Rikki, as they took a break the afternoon his mate’d left for those Japanese shows.

“Fuck if I know,” he answered, shrugging. “Not like there’s gonna be much celebrating, what with the way Nikki normally is these Days.”

“Ugh, I Wish I could fuckin’ kill him,” the drummer grumbled, throwing one of his drumsticks at a target on the wall across the room like it was a throwing knife or ninja star.

“Now imagine how _I_ feel, being mated to him,” Bobby snorted. “’Cuz if _you_ wanna kill him from just being an outsider looking in…”

“Yeah, it’s definitely gotta be worse for you,” he agreed, nodding.

“I mean, honestly…” The younger bassist sighed before looking up at even the guy who’d replaced their lead guitarist a couple Years ago in the Summer of ’85. “I’m honestly tempted _not_ to pick him up from the airport and just hide with one of ya guys.”

“Hey, you’re more than welcome to, man,” Bret told him. “Let him run his mouth aboutcha cheating with one of us–we all know that’s not the case and never will be.”

“Ain’t that the Truth?” he laughed. “’Cuz I like all of ya–just nowhere near like _that.”_

“Good to know, Bob,” Rikki chuckled. “You’re special enough on your own, and with your relationship with _him_ added to it–yeah, we don’t need to be adding shit like sleeping with any of us to it.”

“Got that fuckin’ right,” Bobby agreed. “But, yeah–I dunno what the fuck I”ma do for the holidays, but I doubt it’ll involve much Time spent with my mate, like it or not.”

Even though they didn’t like hearing about how miserable their friend really was behind closed doors, they couldn’t really do anything but nod and be there for him when he needed them. He’d more than well explained what’d happen, should Nikki die, and they didn’t wanna be the ultimate cause of him likely winding up downright suicidal. Otherwise, they’d have killed the older bassist and dumped his body out on the other side of the Santa Barbara Channel already. But in addition to not wanting to hurt their friend, they also didn’t want any murder charges, if his body were miraculously found, despite being dumped at Sea.

As the next week or so passed, though, the trio of blondes watched their lone brunette friend get increasingly agitated. They weren’t sure if he was about to go into heat like they’d seen him do before, or if he was getting some kinda gut feeling he couldn’t explain again. He’d had both happen to him in the Past, and they knew all they could do was wait it out, ’cuz being pushy with the latter was never smart.

* * *

Nikki was supposed to be off the road till just after New Year’s, and he’d been ecstatic to finally get more than a Day or two with his mate before having to head out again. However, none of his plans went–well, according to plan, starting with his mate not being at the airport to greet him when he landed. At first, he’d thought that maybe he’d lost track of Time since his band, Poison, was supposed to be working on their sophomore album the last few months. Then he remembered how cold and distant he’d seemed before he left for this handful of Japanese shows, and his ears almost instantly drooped. How could he’ve forgotten his mate refusing to sleep in the same bed, let alone sleep _with_ him for nearly three Years now more often than not?

Wanting to get away from the pain such a realization brought him–which only added to all the demons from his kittenhood–he’d barely gone home to drop off his bags. Bobby didn’t seem the least bit bothered by him saying he was going out, although he _did_ seem to be a bit agitated for some reason. He figured it was just that he was close to going into heat, not that he’d let him help him in any way, shape, or form, so he just shrugged it off as he headed out.

Even as he made his way over to the Franklin to meet up with his friends, Slash and Steven Adler of Guns n’ Roses, he didn’t bother recalling something he’d been told in the last week. He still didn’t wanna believe that old Chinese Fortune teller who swore he’d be dead within the next week, maybe a month at best, at the Time of his Fortune telling. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t survive, considering all the shit he’d been through ever since the second he was born and saddled with a name even his mother purportedly hadn’t wanted to give him by his back-stabbing, dead-beat father.

In the suite where Slash and Steven were staying, there was already a decent crowd of folks hanging around, despite the early hour. One of those folks happened to be Slash’s new girlfriend, some chick who’d recently moved to American from Scotland. Why on Earth she’d chosen the City of Angels–or more aptly, Demons–to wanna move to was beyond him, but he shrugged it off.

“I say we head for the Cathouse,” Steven said, practically bouncing in his seat.

“You’re just as bouncy as what we named ya after, Popcorn,” the lead guitarist chuckled, his words more than a bit slurred from how drunk he already was.

“Hey, ya won’t hear _me_ arguing,” Nikki laughed. “I could use a helluva Night out.”

“I figured ya got those all the Time, dude,” the drummer mused, even though there was a playful grin on his face.

“Maybe when I’m on the road, but not so much when I’m at home,” he answered, shaking his head. “Trouble in Paradise, as far as Romance goes and all.”

_“Oooh,_ ouch,” Slash said, wincing as he shoved his Dark, curly hair back. “Yeah, definitely sounds like ya need a helluva Night out, man.”

“Then let’s get to it!” The one with _blonde_ curly hair bounced up outta his chair, kinda making him think of a Light-haired version of Tommy. “Time’s a-wastin’, boys, and the liquor ain’t gonna drink itself!”

“Got that right!” the bassist laughed as he pushed himself to his feet. He didn’t say a word about the smack not shooting itself up either, ’cuz they all knew they’d wind up high as kites on top of it by the End of the Night.

That helluva Night out turned into the better part of a week, the trio of rockers having originally gone out on the Night of December nineteenth. Slash insisted on calling it a belated birthday celebration for the older bassist, who’d just turned twenty-nine on the eleventh while he was in Japan. He hadn’t cared that he didn’t celebrate his birthday anymore–he’d told him that if they were gonna party, they might as well use that as their excuse to celebrate. Besides, he’d never get into the habit of actually _wanting_ to celebrate his birthday, if he didn’t find reasons to wanna celebrate it–like celebrating a helluva tour and having such awesome friends, too.

For the next three Days and four Nights, it was just a continuous cycle for the trio that wasn’t exactly outside the norm. Wake up at the Franklin hungover as hell, take a helluva swig outta their unfinished bottle of Jack just to get up, and head out again once they were awake enough. They’d head to the Cathouse, the Rainbow, the Roxy–whichever old haunt’d something going on that actually caught their interest that Night.

Never once did Nikki think about his poor mate back home, who was freakin’ out as he grew more and more agitated with a feeling he couldn’t explain. The younger bassist was essentially locked in a cage so far in the back of his mind, he couldn’t hear him screaming for him to let him out. Course, considering how cold and distant he’d seemed every Time they were together–especially in recent months–he prolly wouldn’t have let him out, so to speak, even if he _had_ heard him. Maybe it was just Time to do whatever he could to move on, however he wound up doing that, ’cuz it was pretty clear that his relationship’d hit a dead End. It didn’t seem there was anything that could Resurrect it, so he didn’t see any point in even bothering to try to anymore.

By the Time he, Slash, and Popcorn made it back to the Franklin on the Night of December twenty-third, the older bassist was beyond wasted. While his friends weren’t really in much better shape, he could hardly stand up long enough for one of them to hit the _Call_ button for the elevator without falling over. Even still, by the Time they made it back to their suite, he was wanting to add to his intoxication by getting high as a kite. Had he known what that’d lead to, he mighta thought better of it–or maybe he’d have still done it just to End it all.


	4. Four

Bret and Rikki’d decided to go stay with their bassist during the week leading up to Christmas, and prolly even though New Year’s, too. Their lead guitarist was planning on heading over on the Night of Christmas Eve since he still wasn’t quite as close as the three of them were. At least he was planning on spending Time with them, his own coke addiction aside, when he coulda decided to ignore them altogether.

Sitting in Bobby’s living room, they were watching whatever happened to be on MTV at the moment–even if one of their own few Music videos. They hadn’t quite been ready to go to bed when their friend was, although they hadn’t thought he’d actually get much, if any sleep again tonight. He’d been pretty agitated for the last few Days, ever since his mate’d gotten back Stateside from his short tour through Japan. At first, they’d thought that he was likely on the verge of going into heat, so they hadn’t really thought anything of even his constant fidgeting.

It was then that the younger bassist finally made an admission that neither of them woulda expected for at least a couple more Years. As it turned out, he’d found out the Day before Nikki’s Return that he was pregnant, despite how rocky their relationship’d been the last two or three Years. Finding out such awesome news when it felt like everything was falling apart at the seams was enough to make him wanna do a happy dance, but it was also kinda like a slap in the face to him.

That was part of why he was so agitated during the past week–he hadn’t even gotten a chance to tell the older bassist the news before he’d taken off for parts unknown. He’d basically come in, thrown his bags across the master bedroom, and taken off on the grounds that he needed a Night out. It was as if he hadn’t wanted to spend any Time with the man he was supposedly gonna be with for over a Century, and that’d pissed the pair of blondes off. Wanting to help their friend get in touch with him to share his news, they’d started asking around to find out who’d seen him. It’d taken only about an hour for the phone to ring, GN’R’s Duff McKagan on the other End of the line when Bret’d answered.

_“Yeah, a mutual friend said they saw him with Slash and Popcorn at the Franklin about an hour ago,”_ he’d told him. _“Said it looked like they were leaving, so who knows where they’re at by now.”_

“Prolly somewhere on the Strip, then,” the vocalist’d responded. “At least it gives us a place to start looking for him, though.”

_“I’m heading out here in a lil while,”_ Duff’d said. _“I’ll keep my eyes peeled and give ya another call, if I see him for myself.”_

“Ya don’t have to do that, but it’s appreciated,” he’d chuckled.

That short conversation’d been three Days ago, and every Time the blonde bassist’d updated them on where Nikki’d last been seen, he seemed to stay a step ahead of them. He and Rikki’d take off to go find him and attempt dragging him back home, only to find out they’d missed him by a few short minutes. Neither of them could seem to catch the elusive Cat, whether they stuck together or split up, and they’d finally just given up.

In favor of being there to support Bobby instead, they’d headed back to the bassists’ house in Van Nuys, their hands essentially thrown in the Air. There wasn’t anything more they could do in regards to trying to get the older one home, and they weren’t gonna waste anymore of their Time and Energy on it. As far as they were concerned, it was simply Time to just kick back and relax while not keeping their friend awake when he really needed his rest. Having something interesting on TV to watch certainly woulda been helpful, but they weren’t Creative Souls for nothing–they could make their own entertainment when need be.

A sudden blood-curdling scream ringing out upstairs startled both of the blondes into falling off the couch, yelps ringing out as they bumped heads and smacked elbows. Once they’d untangled themselves from the human pretzel they’d somehow wound up in, they jumped up and darted up the stairs to the guest room Bobby slept in. They weren’t too sure what the hell they were gonna find once they got up there, but they certainly weren’t expecting to find their friend absolutely hysterical.

“Bobby–dear God, what’s wrong?” Bret asked, grabbing his face so he was cupping his cheeks and making him look at him.

“He–He–He–” the younger bassist kept trying to start, but was hyperventilating too much.

“Hey, Bobby, listen to me.” Rikki gently turned his head to look at him. “Deep breaths, all right? In and out, in and out.”

He obviously tried, but just couldn’t quite manage it.

“C’mon, do it with me,” the drummer said in a Soothing tone. “That kit still needs oxygen, too.”

Even though his choice words seemed to rile him up even more for a moment, they seemed to do the trick in getting through his thick head.

“There we go, bud,” he said, gently rubbing his back. “Now, what’s wrong?”

“N-Nikki!” Bobby sobbed, almost immediately breaking down again as he launched himself at him. “He–He–He–”

“Bobby, breathe,” the vocalist told him. “Ya gotta breathe so ya can tell us what happened to Nikki.”

Somehow, the younger bassist managed to take a few more deep breaths and look up with tear-filled eyes. “Nikki–he’s dead!”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Rikki said, still trying to Calm him down.

“He’s dead, and I know he is!” he sobbed. “Guys, I can’t see in Color anymore–everything’s just black-and-white again!”

It took another couple hours to finally get Bobby Calmed down enough for him to go back to sleep, which he still needed more of since he was still pregnant. Once they’d gotten him back to bed, it was Rikki who headed downstairs to start making phone calls while the vocalist settled in bed next to their friend. He normally wouldn’t have slept within cuddling range, but if he was really right about his mate being dead–well, he didn’t care how gay cuddling with his best friend made him look.

As it turned out, the younger bassist wasn’t wrong in what he’d told his friends once they’d Calmed him enough for him to talk. Mötley Crüe guitarist Mick Mars’d been on his way to his bassist’s house when Rikki’d tried calling them to deliver the bad news. Even though he was normally the least Emotional one, he’d tears streaming down his face as he told him what’d happened to the older bassist.

He’d been found in a cleared-out hotel bathroom after a call’d been made to Los Angeles EMS, Slash passed out in the floor next to him. It was the lead guitarist’s girlfriend who was attempting CPR when EMS arrived, GN’R’s drummer passed out in the actual hotel room. She’d gladly let the EMTs take over once they’d arrived, having physically exhausted herself in the interim by doing what she’d could. Unfortunately, their efforts hadn’t been successful, and Nikki’d been officially pronounced dead around four that Morn. His corpse’d been hauled out on a stretcher–a sheet pulled over his head for Dignity–and taken to the county coroner’s office for an autopsy, even though pretty much everyone knew what woulda killed him.

The drummer was careful not to hurt Mick since he knew about his Health problems as he grabbed him for a hug. He couldn’t imagine what the rest of Mötley Crüe was going through, knowing that they were more likely to lose their livelihood than they weren’t. Mick swore they’d get everything figured out, whether that meant disbanding and going on to do different things, or trying to find a new bassist. In the meantime, he seemed like he was actually more worried about the younger bassist than himself or what his band was gonna do.

“I mean, the kid was his mate,” he said, grimacing as he settled on their couch. “Does he even know, actually?”

“I think he was the first to know, unfortunately,” Rikki sighed as he joined him. “He scared the hell outta me and Bret with a blood-curdling scream just as we were getting ready to turn the TV off and go to bed.”

“Sounds like he’d another one of those Dream-Visions, then,” the guitarist said.

“Huh–whaddaya mean, Dream-Visions?” he asked.

“Well, you’ve heard of psychics supposedly having Visions and shit, right?” Mick countered.

“Yeah, I’ve heard of that kinda thing before,” the drummer answered, nodding.

“The way Nikki once explained it, Dream-Visions’re supposed to be those kinda Visions that come in the form of a Dream,” he explained.

“Which means that Bobby coulda had a Vision of the Present as it was happening, and not even meant to,” Rikki breathed, his eyes widening as he started to get it.

_“Mmm hmm,”_ the guitarist hummed as he nodded. “He very likely saw everything that happened leading up to Nikki being pronounced, and he’d have had no Control over that happening.”

He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that as he shoved his hair back outta his face.

“Ya seem like something else’s bothering ya, though, drummer,” Mick said, almost sounding like he was talking to Tommy again.

“I just–I didn’t wanna believe this was true when we first got Bobby Calmed down,” the drummer sighed. “Even when he swore he couldn’t see in Color anymore, that everything’d gone back to being black-and-white again.”

“Then there’s certainly no denying it,” he told him. “He and Nikki both’ve told us that Nekos and Zorros don’t see in Color till they find their mates. The only thing I can think of that’d reverse that and make them go back to seeing in black-and-white’d be the loss of their mate like this.”

“Now I just dunno how we’re gonna get him through this,” Rikki admitted. “’Cuz while it’s no doubt gonna be like losing a spouse or something, it’s no doubt gonna be so much more complicated than that.”

Nodding, the guitarist reached over to squeeze his hand, Silently letting him know that even if the other half of Mötley weren’t, he was there to help them as much as he could. It was gonna be a hard and trying Time for all of them as they planned the older bassist’s funeral, but even that couldn’t start till after his autopsy and getting in touch with his grandfather, Tom.

For the Time being, the drummer decided to keep his mouth shut and not even tell Mick about the younger bassist’s recently-discovered pregnancy. He knew that was gonna be a whole added layer of complication to this whole mess, but he didn’t feel it was his news to share with anyone. But when he thought about it, this whole situation just meant that this kit was gonna be so much more special than they’d ever anticipated. Since its father was now dead, this’d be the last piece of him that anyone who’d ever loved Nikki’d get, and that meant this kit was already more loved than anyone could Begin to imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know, but I'm anticipating longer ones, now that I've gotten more than 3-4 hours of sleep. It'll depend on household chores, running errands, and those kinda things in addition to my Birth Creature wanting to cause another 2-hour laughing fit like she did last Night before I went to bed. LOL!  
> ~Firefly


	5. Five

Needless to say, the following week wasn’t easy for anyone even remotely involved, but Bobby and Tom prolly had it the worst. The latter’d lost quite a bit in losing his grandson–who actually didn’t share a drop of blood with him, but might as well’ve–and Naturally, it hit him pretty hard. But in being mated to the older bassist, no one could really say that it didn’t hit the former harder than it’d hit his grampa. Finding out he was pregnant only Days, at best before finding out his mate was dead–and from a heroin overdose, at that–was definitely adding insult to injury.

After Nikki’s corpse–what was left of it, that is–was released from the coroner’s office, the elderly Neko was the one to collect it and make the majority of the arrangements. He was both his grandson’s legal next-of-kin, and he also knew what his final Wishes were, should he outlive the younger Neko. Said younger Neko’d made it clear that if he wasn’t cremated, he was to be buried next to his grama up in what he considered his home State of Idaho.

During that week of waiting for the older bassist’s corpse to be released, though, it seemed like his young mate was far more devastated that anyone’d previously anticipated. Those who knew him best thought he might be tempted to hit the bottle as a way of coping with his loss, but think better of it due to the kit he was carrying. However, it didn’t seem like even being pregnant was gonna make him think twice about quite literally drowning his Sorrows in whatever he could get his hands on. Eventually, it got to the point that Elvin Rikki was forced to spell him to protect his kit, or he’d End up triggering a miscarriage. And if his pregnancy didn’t come to that End, he’d wind up delivering a blighted kit, likely one with fetal alcohol syndrome.

With the corpse finally up in Idaho, Bobby’s closest friends were forced to drag him up there for the funeral they knew he didn’t wanna go to. Both were smart enough not to even try talking him into giving a eulogy, knowing damn good and well he wouldn’t get three words out before breaking down. Still, they thought he needed to accept the finality of what’d happened, even if he didn’t wanna since it’d help him move on.

“I just–I don’t wanna go,” he said with a whimper as Bret and Rikki helped him get dressed on the Day of Nikki’s funeral.

“I know ya don’t, bud,” Bret sighed, gently cupping his cheeks in his palms. “None of us do, if only ’cuz he was just too damn young.”

“He still had a lotta living left to do, a lot more songs left to write,” the drummer agreed, helping him into his suit jacket. “And that’s not including a kit to help raise.”

Bobby couldn’t help a soft sob as his hands drifted down to cup his lower belly. “He’s not even gonna get to meet them, and they’re only gonna know who Daddy is ’cuz of pictures I show them.”

“Well, the bright side–if there _is_ one–in this is thatcha can say one thing,” his best friend told him.

“And what’s that?” the younger bassist asked with a sniffle.

“At leastcha can say that while he _did_ kinda abandon this kit, he’s not just out running around somewhere, shirking his Responsibility,” Bret told him. “Kinda hard to fulfill a Responsibility of any kind when ya can’t even draw a breath, now ain’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he acquiesced, nodding. “He coulda just ran off like our own dads did, alive but unwilling to be there for us like they shoulda been.”

“If it makes it any easier, ya can kinda think about it like a soldier going to War, too,” Rikki said thoughtfully. “He was kinda like a soldier of Expression who just didn’t make it through the battle to get his point out there so it was actually heard.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty accurate,” Bret agreed with a nod of his own. “Not all of us Warriors’re gonna survive this particular battle, no matter how hard we try.”

Nodding his own agreement, Bobby reached up to wipe away more tears, thankful the eyeliner they’d talked him into wearing was waterproof. He looked bad enough with a blotchy complexion eerily reminiscent of having a severe allergic reaction to something, his eyes bloodshot like he hadn’t slept in Days. Course, he really hadn’t been sleeping well, both from Dreams of the Past as it was and how it coulda been, as well as Dreams of what their Present and even Future coulda been like.

With all of them ready to go, they finally left the hotel they’d been staying at alongside the remains of Mötley, as well as GN’R. The latter band was actually some of the last to see Nikki alive, Slash and Steven especially, and it was ’cuz of the older bassist that they’d gotten a shot on a serious tour. No one was dumb enough to deny that they damn well coulda done it on their own eventually, but no doubt having ties with the veteran band had helped them Sky-rocket as much as it’d helped Poison. Granted, hardly anyone knew of the connection between Mötley and Poison, which was exactly what the pair of bassists’d wanted, but that was beside the point–without Nikki, they wouldn’t have known half of what they did as recording artists.

At the funeral home where his funeral was being held, the younger bassist settled in the front row next to Tom, who grabbed him for a hug. The elderly Neko’d loved him like his own from the moment his late boyfriend had introduced them about six months after they’d first met. Ever since then, they’d grown almost as close as grandfather and grandson, and now they were almost the only family the other’d left anymore.

It wasn’t long before the funeral proceedings got underway, and Bobby couldn’t help a small, but sad smile when he looked up at the podium. Nikki’d told him that the Coven he belonged to was headed up by Elvin Rikki and his wife, Sirena, the two of them filling the roles of High Priest and High Priestess. He’d been vehemently clear that–if something should ever happen to him–it was they who were supposed to read him his last rites and lead his funeral. That Cat’d been a hundred percent Pagan to the very marrow of his bones, and he didn’t want some Christian minister or Catholic priest doing those things for him after he was dead and gone.

“Time to go, son.”

Looking up from where he’d been lost in his memories again, the younger bassist saw that Tom’d risen and was holding his hand out to him.

“We can head on back to the house, if ya really don’t wanna see this part,” he offered as they clasped hands for him to pull him up.

“I don’t think I’ve it in me, honestly,” Bobby admitted with a sniffle. “It’s just–coming to his funeral’s hard enough since I shoulda gotten way more Time with him than this.”

“I know, son–believe me, I know,” the elderly Neko agreed. “Even though I’m an old Cat compared to Nikki, Nona was still far older than me. We met so late in her Lifetime that we’d only been together for about twenty Years when she passed last Summer, and we’d both already lost a mate before then, too.”

“At least you’d already been through it once, shitty though that is to say,” he sighed. “And didn’t have a kit on the way when it happened, either.”

“Hey, at least you’ve one last piece of him to hold on to, if ya quit being stupid,” Tom chuckled. “Shit, who am I kidding? We’ll all have one last piece of him in this kit.”

“Don’t worry about whether I’m being stupid or not, as long as it doesn’t kill me, too,” the younger bassist said, managing a chuckle of his own.

Unsure of what he meant, he could only cock a brow at him.

“He means that I’ve spelled the kit to protect it from just about anything he can throw at it,” Elvin Rikki spoke up as he joined them.

“Is that so?” the elderly Neko asked, sounding surprised.

“Let’s just say he was diving a bit too deep into a few too many bottles this week for both their good,” he told him. “Rather than have to see him rip his own heart out all over again when he lost this kit due to his own stupidity, I decided to spell it so he can do damn near whatever he wants and not suffer a miscarriage.”

“I should hope you’re still not gonna do anything _too_ stupid,” Tom said, leveling a hard look on the younger bassist.

“He won’t, as long as I’m around,” the Elvin man assured him. “Bad enough this kit’s already lost one parent before they could even be born–I’m not about to let them lose the other, too.”

Nodding his agreement to that statement, he wrapped an arm around Bobby’s waist, letting him lean on him as they headed outta the funeral home. He was so much shorter than the young Zorro that it was almost comical, but this was too melancholy a Time to be laughing at much of anything. Otherwise, he’d have no doubt been the first to laugh at the sight they made as they headed out to his beat-up old truck to go home.

Barely making it ten feet outta the funeral home’s front door, the younger bassist let out a _mraw_ as he was suddenly engulfed in a tight hug. Sniffing curiously, he thought he recognized the scent of honey that wafted around the person, but he couldn’t place who it belonged to. Looking up once the person took a step back, he realized it was Duff McKagan–who was actually sober for once. He managed a smile as his fellow bassist held him at arm’s length for a moment, then pulled him back into another tight hug and practically rocked him. There was just something about this blonde giant’s presence that was Comforting, and he relished that Comfort.

Duff wasn’t about to tell the slightly-older bassist the realization he’d come to when he’d held him at arm’s length moments ago. He’d already insanely too much on his plate to be worrying about having a second mate, especially when he hadn’t even realized that he, too was a Zorro. The Time to Enlighten him to such a thing’d come eventually, and he was more than patient enough to wait till then. Besides, he felt that it was best he be given Time to Heal from his current trauma a bit before he went and told him something so shocking.

Offering him words of condolence, the younger bassist made it clear that–even if he hated Slash and Steven now–he could always come to him whenever he needed anything. Bobby started to tell him that such a thing’d never happen, ’cuz he prided himself on being fairly Independent on most things, but he was quickly cut off. He couldn’t help a soft, but surprised gasp when the giant of a blonde leaned down to his Glamoured ear and whispered that Bret’d told him about his pregnancy. He didn’t think he should have to go such a thing alone, especially after such a significant loss, and he was more than willing to do what he could to help him. While he could make the offer, he couldn’t make him accept it and he knew that, but his door–not to mention arms–was still open, if need be.

Grateful he hadn’t said that where everybody and their brother could hear, the older bassist simply nodded and told him he’d keep that in mind. He just asked that he not tell anyone else about his pregnancy, ’cuz he’d only wanted Poison, Tom, and the remains of Mötley knowing in the first place. A serious look crossed Duff’s face before he reached up to ruffle his hair, which revealed a pair of Amber Fox ears hidden in the fluffy mass before it settled again. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what he was trying to tell him, which was that he understood why he’d make such a request of him, and he was even more grateful. That made things so much easier, and his fellow bassist knowing these things already actually made him feel a lil safer than before.

After another week spent up in Idaho, Bobby was finally back in his Los Angeles home so he could start packing it up. There was no way he could remain in this house, what with all its memories of his lost mate in every nook and cranny he looked in. He was already fighting slipping into a hole that’d easily lead to him meeting the same Fate, the kit he carried be damned–he didn’t need to make things worse by remaining here.

While he was up in Idaho, though, he’d gotten a bit of a jumpstart on a song Poison’d been working on for a while, but hit a dead End on. Bret’d started writing this particular tune that Summer not long before their tour Ended, a call home from a laundromat giving him a nasty wake-up call. Even though the circumstances weren’t nearly the same, the young bassist’s recent loss was Inspiring him a bit since even Elvin Rikki’d been encouraging him to channel his pain elsewhere. Sure, it’d prolly be an agonizing song to play live, if it ever got added to their set lists in the Future, but it’d still be a tribute to Nikki either way.

But before they could even think of heading into the studio to really work on it, he wanted to get moved outta this house of horrors, as he now called it. Since he’d nowhere else to go, he was moving in with his vocalist while he was searching for a place, thankful the man’d a guest room he could stay in. Course, he and his lost mate’d let him and Rikki both crash with them plenty of Times till they’d all gotten their own places, particularly when CC’d get too outta Control on the coke, so he needed to Return the favor.

“Hey there, man.”

Looking up with a sniffle from where he’d been folding some of his clothes to pack up, he saw Bret and two others behind him. “Hey, Bret.”

“I’d ask how you’re doing, but that’s a stupid question,” the vocalist chuckled.

“Yeah, it really is,” Bobby agreed, but still managed a small smile. “I guess I’m doing all right, all things considered, though.”

“You’re still alive, so that’s a start,” Rikki said, uncaring if that was the wrong choice of words or not. “And believe me, I wake up every Morn and thank a God I don’t necessarily believe in for that.”

“You’re fucked in the head, man, but I love ya, anywhore,” the young bassist laughed, his first genuine laugh in nearly two weeks.

“Hey, at least I gotcha to laugh!” he shot back with a grin.

“I’ll definitely take that over anymore tears.”

That was when he realized that the third body wasn’t the short-stub who rounded out his band. “Hey, Duff.”

“Glad to see you’re still somewhat sane,” the younger bassist chuckled. “Been getting anymore sleep compared to what Bret and Rikki told me ya were getting before?”

“Not by much,” Bobby answered, shaking his head. “And before ya ask, if it’s not what I’m counting as nightmares at this point, it’s ’cuz I’ve been so damn sick.”

He looked a bit confused, as did the other pair of blondes who’d started to help him back his belongings.

“Morn sickness, children,” a Soothing voice giggled as its owner walked in. That voice belonged to Elvin Rikki’s wife, who was one of the sweetest beings alive–till someone pushed just the right button to set her off.

“What?” Duff asked, and he realized he was asking for even his friends.

“Morning sickness, if ya don’t use old-World speak like she does,” the older bassist chuckled. “By this way, this is Elvin Rikki’s wife, Sirena.”

“Pleasure to meetcha,” he said, offering his hand.

“Likewise, kit,” she agreed, surprising him by grabbing his forearm just below his elbow instead.

“Just go with it,” Bobby laughed, remembering when she and Elvin Rikki’d done that to him for the first Time.

Looking a bit weirded-out, the younger bassist Returned the gesture, careful not to grip her arm too tightly.

“I’m tougher than I look, for a woman,” Sirena laughed as she pumped his arm once before letting go. “We, Elves’re made of tougher shit than you’d think.”

“Apparently so,” Bret agreed with a chuckle. “So, what’s this _Morning sickness_ business?”

Even as she made Bobby sit down to take a break, she started to explain the topic at hand based on her own personal experience with it. According to the Elvin woman, the mother’s body produced so many different hormones in the Beginning of pregnancy that it often made the mother sick. In a way, it was kinda like eating or smoking too much in the nausea it’d cause, but thankfully, it wouldn’t last forever.

The unfortunate part was the Morn sickness wasn’t confined to just the Morn–it could strike at any Time of Day or Night. For some mothers, it was nearly constant round the clock, even to the point that they’d to be hospitalized to get the nausea and vomiting under Control. Other mothers’d get sick, but not to the point of needing medical intervention in order to be able to keep even small amounts of food down. Very few were lucky enough to get through their first trimester with lil and even absolutely no Morn sickness at all, but it happened occasionally. Clearly, Bobby wasn’t one of those latter mothers who got away with lil-to-none, but he also didn’t seem to be constantly sick, either.

As the trio of blondes listened to the experienced mother’s words, they helped pack up the older bassist’s bed- and bathroom. They were all glad to hear that there were things they could do to help keep it under Control to hopefully avoid him having to be hospitalized. Even better to their ears was hearing that Sirena not knew about these tricks from personal experience with the matter, but from Centuries as a midwife, as well. It gave them a sense of Comforted relief to know that he was in good hands, but none more so than young Duff.

Giving the blonde bassist an appraising look, she shot a look toward the back yard before looking him dead in the eye again. Other than figuring out she wanted a private word with him, he couldn’t imagine why she’d give him that kinda look without saying anything. Then again, he didn’t realize just how Intuitive this woman really was since they’d literally just met, and therefore he didn’t know she was a Water Witch. Even still, he simply nodded and waited till she’d gone downstairs ahead of him before saying he was stepping out for a smoke so he could follow her.

“You’ve realized you’re mated to Bobby, haven’tcha?” she asked almost as soon as he’d closed the back door.

“Huh–whaddaya mean?” Duff asked, pausing in lighting the cigarette he’d said he was coming out for.

“Kit, don’t even bother trying to lie to me,” the Elvin woman laughed. “I’ve already seen through your Glamour, so I know damn good and well you’re a Zorro in addition to being D’Anu.”

“Wait, how’d ya know I’m D’Anu?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“Well, your surname’s notoriously Irish, for one,” Sirena answered with a knowing smile. “And I’ve never heard any other culture use _Duff_ as a nickname for a boy, either.”

“All right, all right–good deductive skills, Sherlock,” the younger bassist chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve a lotta Irish blood in me, obviously from my dad’s side of the family. And both my parents were Zorros, so I’m full-blooded instead of a mutt, so to speak.”

She still waited patiently for an answer to her original question, rather than trying to be pushy.

“But yeah, I figured out Bobby and I are mated,” Duff admitted, sighing heavily. “I just chose to keep my mouth shut for now.”

“And why’s that, kit?” the Elvin woman asked. She almost sounded like she already knew the answer to her own question, but still wanted to hear him say it aloud.

“Even though we’ve seen each other before, I didn’t start seeing in Color till the Day of Nikki’s funeral,” he told her. “While admitting that to him might help him cope with his loss, it might also pile too much onto his already-full plate.”

“So, you’re just looking out for him by trying to give him Time before ya do that latter scenario?” Sirena asked.

“Yeah, exactly,” the younger bassist answered, nodding. “I don’t wanna push him over the edge, and since I dunno what’ll happen if I tell him right now…”

“Hey, as long as ya tell him eventually,” she said. “And if he figures it out on his own before ya get the chance, just be honest with him.”

Duff couldn’t help cocking a brow as he stubbed out his smoke in the ash tray that was on the patio table.

“Look, Bobby was with Nikki and around my husband and I for just long enough that–even if it pisses him off at first–he’ll appreciate the Honesty,” the Elvin woman told him. “He might get pissed thatcha didn’t tell him sooner, but he can’t really faultcha for just looking out for him like a good mate should any more than I can.”

_“Ahhhh,_ I see,” he said, nodding. “Well, I’d certainly rather he be pissed at me for just looking out for him than for something stupid. From what I hear, he put up with so much stupid shit outta Nikki that I don’t ever wanna add to that, nor repeat those mistakes.”

Sirena nodded as she told him that almost from the Time they’d met, Nikki’d put the pregnant Zorro through no End of hell. As sad as it was to admit, part of her’d dare say that there was a small part of him that was glad his mate’d passed, if only so he wouldn’t have to keep putting up with the bullshit. However, there was another part of her that knew no matter how bad things’d gotten between them, he’d never’ve truly Wished Death on the late bassist.

Duff held out a hand like the gentleman he’d been raised to be when she made to get up, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the mixture of Emotions on her face. He could clearly see that while she appreciated the gesture, she was a fiercely Independent woman who was clearly tempted to knock his hand away. Even still, she let him pull her to her feet and escort her back into the house so they could get back to work on packing.

In the house, the younger bassist forced himself to put a lid on his Emotions as he worked alongside Bret and Rikki, who were still making their friend relax. He didn’t realize that Bobby was every bit as Intuitive as his would-be mother-in-law, which meant that he was already picking up on certain things. Another thing was that he was more Empathic than even he realized, which meant he could often feel the Emotions of others as if they were his own, even when others didn’t mean for him to. He chose not to mention it, though, ’cuz he was exhausted from the past couple weeks combined with his pregnancy. While he knew that Time might be shorter than one realized, he also knew that there’d be Time to ask about what he was curious about later on.

Within a couple hours, the vast majority of Bobby’s belongings were packed up and loaded into a U-haul that Rikki was charged with driving. He’d already decided to sell the furniture along with the house, which’d been in his name as much as Nikki’s, despite their inability to legally wed. That meant less for him to have to move, not to mention more money in his pocket to find a new place and set up a nursery for his kit. All of that was in the Future, and he fully Intended to just take it one Day at a Time, rather than completely overwhelm himself.


	6. Six

Over the next month, Bobby got completely settled into his best friend’s guest suite, usually keeping himself pretty scarce. He was still grieving for his late boyfriend, so he generally didn’t wanna be around a whole lotta people, and his Morn sickness didn’t help that. Another thing was that he didn’t wanna have to try explaining away that Morn sickness by claiming to’ve given himself a case of food poisoning, which was pretty hard to do. In being part-Fox, even his human form was literally built to eat a lotta shit without making him sick that humans simply couldn’t get away with.

Selling the house he’d bought with Nikki a few Years ago hadn’t taken nearly as long as he’d thought it’d take, either. Almost as soon as he’d put it on the market, there was a buyer willing to write a check for it–site unseen–and the offer was just too much to turn down. It was actually well above listing price, and he knew the extra money’d come in handy for all the baby shopping he was soon gonna be doing.

But even as he seemed to be moving on with his Life after such a traumatic loss, the young bassist was still a bit stuck in the Past. He felt lonelier than he’d ever felt in his Life, particularly at Night when he’d go to bed and realize just how much he missed having his mate there to cuddle him. Even when he hadn’t felt up to sex, just the older bassist’s mere presence’d been enough to lull him into a deep sleep full of good Dreams to tell him about the next Morn. Now, he was lucky to have any Dreams at all, and the sad Truth of the matter was that nearly all of them were more along the lines of Nightmares. And even if he _did_ have the occasional good Dream–usually something about their kit–there was no one special to tell about it once he woke up.

During that month as he was getting settled, Duff seemed to be hanging around Bret’s house a lot more than he’d have thought normal. It was almost like the slightly-younger bassist was drawn to him, but he couldn’t figure out the reason why–at least, not at first. Waking up one Morn after the blonde’d cuddled him to sleep ’cuz he’d started crying and realizing he could see in Color again’d shocked him fully awake. He was confused, ’cuz he hadn’t thought he’d been around anyone who could trigger that kinda reaction lately, but maybe he’d been sorely mistaken due to his Grief.

“Ugh, since when did earthquakes hit just the bed?” the younger bassist grumbled as he cracked open his eyes.

“Duff, be honest with me,” Bobby said, his tone coming out a hair more desperate than he meant for it to.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, pushing himself up onto his elbow. His other hand came up to cover his mouth so he could muffle the yawn he let out at least somewhat.

“When did ya start seeing in Color?” the older bassist asked. “And who were ya around when it happened?”

Duff closed his eyes, and he wasn’t sure what to make of that as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against his own.

“Duff, answer me,” he pleaded.

“How ’bout I answer those questions in reverse of how ya asked them?” the younger bassist chuckled, slowly opening his eyes again.

Bobby wasn’t too sure what to make of that, so he just nodded slightly, despite their current position.

“You, and…” he trailed off, starting to seem nervous.

“And, what?” the older bassist asked.

“And it was the Day of Nikki’s funeral,” Duff answered, trying to keep his tone gentle.

He couldn’t help a gasp as those words hit him like a barrel of bricks, and he thought he already had the answer to his next question.

“I haven’t told ya, not ’cuz I was trying to hide it, but ’cuz I wanted to give ya Time,” the younger bassist started. “I’d never think you’d use me as a rebound after losing Nikki, but I didn’t think you’d wanna go jumping from one serious relationship straight into the next, either.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that,” Bobby agreed, pulling back just enough to see him clearly.

“And you’ve had so much on your plate, what with finding out you’re pregnant, his Death, his funeral, and moving, that I didn’t wanna add to any of that,” he continued. “It just didn’t seem fair to either of us, and I definitely didn’t wanna push ya over the edge.”

“I–well, I can’t lie and say that it wouldn’t have,” the older bassist managed to chuckle.

Duff couldn’t help a chuckle of his own as he pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, then pulled back to look him in the eye again. He made it clear that he could still come to him as just a friend anytime he needed something, that he didn’t mind waiting to take any kinda Romantic step with him. Sure, it’d be hard on him, ’cuz he’d be the first to admit that he already wanted everything he’d to offer him–but he knew taking things slowly was their best option.

Sighing as he snuggled up to him again, he couldn’t help a few tears as he reached down to gently cup his lower belly. At just two months into his pregnancy, he felt like he was already starting to show, and he wondered what the younger bassist’d think once he really did. Would he still want him like this, or would he be repulsed ’cuz he found the weight gain and stretch marks to be disgusting?

As if figuring out what was on the older bassist’s mind, he gently grabbed his chin and made him look back up at him. He told him that he’d seen him around ever since he moved to the area in early-1985, and even when he was absolutely rotted and sleep-deprived, he’d looked absolutely gorgeous to him. He’d just never truly admitted it to even himself, ’cuz while he’d no problems with finding out he’d a male mate, he hadn’t considered himself even bisexual before now. Dwelling on why he’d be so attracted to him outta the blue without finding out they were mated woulda just given him a never-Ending migraine, which he didn’t want to happen since he rather liked not being in pain.

The smile that curved Bobby’s lips as he laughed at that comment was genuine, one of the few he’d managed since waking up from the Dream-Vision that’d told him about Nikki’s Death. He admitted that there’d been something about the blonde that was attractive from the first moment he’d seen him, but he didn’t have the obvious clue of seeing in Color like he’d had with his late boyfriend. Maybe blowing off that attraction hadn’t been for the best, but then again, maybe it had–it coulda been the Universe lining up the best for him when the worst happened, but in a way that wouldn’t be too overwhelming.

“I can live with that,” Duff told him. “I mean, that’s kinda what I’ve been doing ever since I started seeing in Color when I hugged ya right after Nikki’s funeral.”

“At least you’re being patient instead of pushy,” he agreed, chuckling again.

“My ma’d have my pelt, if I were to be pushy in a Time like this–especially if it was just so I could get laid,” the younger bassist told him. Even though he was laughing softly, he was dead serious in his words.

“Really, now?” Bobby asked curiously, that smile still on his lips.

“I might be the youngest of eight, but Ma didn’t raise a damn fool,” he answered.

“Eight? Damn,” the older bassist laughed. “And here, I thought being the youngest of three was rough.”

“Eh, it’s rough being the youngest, no matter how many older siblings you’ve got,” Duff said. “I mean, ya practically get away with murder ’cuz nobody wantsta think the worst of ya, but at the same Time, nobody wantsta letcha grow up, either.”

“Here, here,” he agreed. “Course, you’d more siblings to get in trouble than I did.”

“Seriously–four brothers and three sisters,” the younger bassist laughed. “Mostly my brothers, though–never really had it in me to do _too_ much to get my sisters in trouble.”

“But that didn’t stop ya from Destroying their toys and clothes, did it?” Bobby asked with a grin.

“Shit, I was more often _stealing_ their clothes and makeup than Destroying them!” he answered with a cackle.

“Oh, Gods–that was the fun shit,” the older bassist agreed. “Patty used to say she was gonna rip my ovaries out, if I didn’t leave her clothes and makeup alone.”

“And yet now, you’re one of the best makeup artists I’ve seen in a while,” Duff told him.

“Eh, Tommy Lee’s sister Athena’s still better than me,” he said, blushing at the compliment.

“So, ya practice a lil more–then you’ll put even her to shame,” the younger bassist chuckled.

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Bobby agreed. “It seems Fertiles’ve a way with learning the feminine Arts as much as the masculine ones.”

His younger mate couldn’t help yet another laugh as he gently kissed his forehead again, purposely not trying to actually kiss him. He hadn’t been kidding about being more than content to wait till he was ready to take a step into the Romantic side, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t show him affection in small ways. All that meant was that he needed to go slow and keep things as chaste as possible for the moment, which was fine by him.

Maybe the two of them being mated–no matter how fast or slow they took things–wasn’t such a bad thing after all, the older bassist decided. He hadn’t really had anyone that he was particularly close to since moving to Los Angeles, if one didn’t count Bret and Rikki or his family. Finding out that he was mated to Nikki’d been like a Lighthouse suddenly Lighting up a Storm-Darkened Sky while he was out at Sea. The Neko’d been the one to Guide him through so many things, from a couple tricks to avoiding trouble in the Music industry to actually bottoming for sex.

Just laying here in bed with Duff, their arms wrapped around each other and legs twisted together like a pretzel of limbs, was enough for him. Like the blonde’d already said, it was best for him to take the Time to Heal from his loss before he went diving into a new relationship, but knowing he was there for him was certainly helpful. If he hoped for anything, though, he supposed he just hoped that he didn’t take too long to Heal–after all, Time could be far shorter than one realized, and he didn’t wanna waste too much of it.

By the Time Poison finally finished working on their sophomore album–which was entitled _Open Up and Say…Ahh!_ –and got it released, Bobby was six months pregnant. The band was still trying to decide if they oughta embark on another tour right off the bat and hope nothing went wrong with a delivery on their bus, or if they should just wait till after he’d given Birth. None of the blondes wanted to see anything happen to their friend, but they definitely didn’t wanna see anything happen to the kit he carried.

Said to be a baby girl by Sirena, she was the last part of her daddy that anyone in the World would ever get, and they knew that losing her’d be beyond devastating to the brunette bassist. Even Bret wasn’t too sure that–as they now knew–being mated to GN’R’s Duff McKagan could get him through that kinda loss, and less than a Year after losing her father.

In fact, said expectant mother was still mourning his loss to the point that Elvin Rikki’d never dropped the spell he’d cast on the unborn kit. He was still drinking way too much to avoid giving his daughter fetal alcohol syndrome, possibly even killing her, if that spell was dropped. Everybody’d known he was gonna be depressed after losing his older mate, but they hadn’t thought it’d be this bad. Then again, maybe Duff having to hit the road with his own band again so soon after such a loss was only adding to that, but none of them could really be sure about that theory. Getting the brunette to open up and talk to them was like trying to nail Jello to a Tree sometimes, and they didn’t wanna push him too far.

Their minds were made up about staying home for a few more months when Bobby finally found what he considered the perfect house. Somewhere between Thousand Oaks and Ventura, it was a bit further away than what they’d all wanted to see him pick, but certainly closer than anything else he’d considered. After all, he’d threatened to quit the band, move back to his home State of Florida, and go into the culinary industry since he loved to cook as much as make Music.

“And you’re sure this is the place?” Bret asked as he and their drummer helped him move in.

“This place just _Calls_ to me,” he answered. He felt kinda useless since they wouldn’t really let him unload anything, even though they were just looking out for him and his unborn kit.

“Can’t really argue with that,” the drummer said, grunting as they carried in some of his heavier boxes. “After what he, Nikki, and those Elves taught us about Pagans and things Calling to them, how can we?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he agreed, trying to be gentle about setting down the box he’d been carrying.

“I mean, part of me Wishes I coulda gotten Nikki to move to an area like this before…” Bobby said, trailing off. “But then again, it wouldn’t be a New Beginning for me, if we’d done that and he’d still died, now would it?”

“Not in the least,” Rikki agreed, bending over backward to crack his back. “Besides, I think ya need more than just a few months after something like that before we hit the road again, pregnancy or no.”

“I just hope Duff’ll like it when he sees it,” the bassist told them, biting his lip nervously.

“Why wouldn’t he?” Bret asked. “He seems to like everything else ya pick out.”

“True, but it’s not like I really gave him a say in this,” he admitted. “I mean, Nikki and I’d equal say in that house I sold, even though we weren’t married. Duff and I are mated all the same, but I didn’t let him help pick the house, and his name’s not on any of the paperwork.”

“And ya really think he’s gonna get pissed over something like that?” the vocalist asked incredulously. “C’mon, Bobby–listen to yourself.”

“If he’s even half the mate Nikki was–preferably twice what he was, honestly–he’ll love the house, whether he’d a say in picking it or not,” Rikki agreed. “He seems like he just wants ya to be happy, which’ll just make _him_ happy in Return.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true enough,” Bobby agreed, a small smile curving his lips. “He’s definitely done everything he could to help me till he’d to hit the road again–Nikki was almost always too busy getting high to care.”

Both blondes grumbled under their breath at the memories, begging him not to remind them of that and how bad they still wanted to throttle the late bassist over it. Neither of them’d been able to stand seeing the shit he’d been put through for almost five Years by that Cat, but they hadn’t been able to convince him to leave him. Course, with something like being mated hanging over all their heads the whole Time, they’d known it’d be a miracle to convince him of such a thing right from the get-go.

Once all the boxes were unloaded, the drummer left to go turn in the U-haul they’d rented to move his belongings from Bret’s house. They’d need the driveway freed up for when furniture deliveries started, and the first was supposed to be arriving any minute. After all, he’d need a bed to sleep in since he couldn’t shift and just curl up in a pile of his clothes since he was pregnant.

A loud rumble and what sounded like a blast of Air out front caught their attention, and peeking out the window that faced the front of the house in the den revealed the source. There was a delivery truck from a local furniture store now parked by the curb, and one of the men in it was quick to climb out and start heading for the front door. Bobby was glad that–for being six months pregnant–he wasn’t showing so much that he couldn’t hide his baby bump with a baggy tank top or T-shirt. He didn’t want these random weirdos to know what kinda guy he was in that Respect, which was fairly typical amongst Nekos and Zorros who were also Fertiles.

“I’m looking for a Robert Kuykendall,” the delivery man said once the door’d been answered by the blonde.

“He just headed to the bathroom right as ya pulled up,” he told him, covering for him.

“No problem–I know how that goes,” the guy chuckled. “Ya wouldn’t believe how many Times I’ve almost walked away from a delivery, only for the front door to be opened just as I turned my back.”

“Sorry about that,” the bassist chuckled, finally stepping into the foyer. “Gotta go when Nature calls.”

“Like I was telling your friend here, I know that feeling.” He paused to looked down at the clipboard in his hands. “Robert Kuykendall, right?”

“Just call me Bobby,” he told him. “Pretty much everybody does, anywhore.”

“All right–if you’ll just sign here, we’ll start unloading everything.”

Nodding, Bobby took the clipboard and signed where he’d pointed to, then handed it back to him and moved to head into the living room. He’d bought two different bedroom suits–one for the master, and one for one of the spare bedrooms upstairs–was well as a living and dining room suit. Other than that, he wasn’t very interested in furniture for right now, if it didn’t belong in a nursery since that could be bought later.

Bret actually jumped in to guide the delivery guy into the driveway once he’d pulled their cars into the garage for him, then with the actual unloading, too. He told the guys that he didn’t care about possibly getting hurt, that he just wanted to get this done so that he and one of their other friends could help him get everything set up. Granted, the guy still tried to stop him, but he just shot him a look that screamed not to argue with him as he tied his hair up into a ponytail.

The bassist couldn’t help snickering as he told them which bedroom suit was supposed to go where, then just kept to himself in the kitchen. Even if the blondes wouldn’t let him do anything else, he could at least unpack things like his dishes and figure out where he wanted to store them. Sure, he’d still have to take breaks and get off his feet, but that was what the camp chairs out back were for, even though they weren’t the most comfortable things on the Planet for a pregnant man. He’d just have to make do till he managed to buy some actual patio furniture–or at least got his living room set up–since he’d rather focus on getting baby furniture before the Timer went off on his lil baking bun, so to speak.

He made sure to keep his ears cocked for anyone walking up behind him when his back was turned toward one of the entrances to the kitchen. Despite having been wary of strangers in the Past, he was a bit reckless with his safety at Times, even though he was a Fertile. Once he’d found out that he was pregnant, Bobby’d grown downright paranoid about his safety, never really wanting to be alone for Fear that somebody’d break in. With a bun in the oven, he wouldn’t exactly be able to do much to defend himself without possibly hurting his kit, which he definitely didn’t wanna do.

“Bobby, where ya at, dude?”

“In the kitchen, Rik!” he called, having heard the front door open and close again.

“I’m guessing Bret left already?” the drummer asked as he walked in to find him putting dishes away as he unpacked them.

“Upstairs helping the delivery men, actually,” Bobby answered with a chuckle.

“He musta insisted on just getting it done so we could help ya start setting up,” he laughed.

“That’s exactly what he did, actually,” the bassist told him. “But hey, if it means I can get off my feet–and plant my ass on something other than a camp chair–sooner, I’m all for it.”

“I’m sure ya are,” Rikki agreed. “Your ankles’re starting to look swollen to me.”

“Great, means they and my feet’re gonna be killing me later since they’re only a lil achy right now,” he groaned.

Chuckling, the drummer managed to uncover a bar stool he hadn’t realized had been brought in and steered him over to it. He told him that he could still do all the unpacking he wanted, but to let him worry about being the one to put everything away for him. At least that didn’t totally strip him of his Independence, but still got him off his feet for a while so they wouldn’t hurt quite as bad later.

It wasn’t more than a couple hours later that Bret and the delivery men finished bringing everything in from the truck parked in his driveway. Thanking them, Bobby made sure they got a generous tip before they left, then turned to survey the train wreck that was supposed to be his living room. All the plastic’d been pulled off his new living room suit, but none of it’d really been arranged in any kinda way that’d be called _cozy_. He decided that that was the first project to work on, glaring at his friends when they tried to stop him from moving so much as an End table.

Working together, the trio managed to get the living room into some kinda semblance of Order, then moved on to the eat-in dining nook in his kitchen. After that, they really only had to worry about the two bedrooms he was setting up for now since he still had yet to start on any baby shopping beyond a few pieces of clothing he’d seen and thought were cute. That was gonna be saved for after he’d gotten what he’d brought with him and just bought settled, which shouldn’t take him more than a week to manage.

By the Time they’d managed to finish arranging the few furnished rooms to his liking, all three of them were exhausted. They’d only taken a break for dinner since it was starting to get late, and that’d consisted of ordering pizza since none of them’d felt like cooking–not that he really had much in the way of food at the moment. Getting back to work, they’d finished up with the furniture and just started breaking down boxes and they parked their asses in front of the tube for a while. That took them a couple hours, and by then, it was too late for either of the blondes to make it back to Los Angeles safely without sleep. Bobby was ever grateful to them for their help, and he was more than glad to have friends like this that he could rely on right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I don't normally use Realtor.com when I'm searching for the houses that I wanna use as models in my stories, but Zillow just didn't have anything good in the size range I was hunting for. After all, a rock star with only one album out ain't gonna have nearly as much money with four albums out, so Bobby was on a bit tighter a budget this Time around.
> 
> Personally, I think this is actually a bit on the big side for a more or less single guy, even one with a baby on the way, considering that aforementioned budget. Then again, it gives him a lil bit of wiggle room for the Future, don'tcha think?  
> ~Firefly
> 
> Link to Bobby's House–https://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/421-W-Loop-Dr_Camarillo_CA_93010_M20810-39661#photo0


	7. Seven

Just like he’d thought, it took Bobby about a week to get fully settled into his new home so that pretty much everything was unpacked and put away. There were a few more boxes to work on, and he hadn’t bothered decorating much of anything just yet, but he was getting there. He was having to go a lot slower than he’d have liked due to his pregnancy, but he knew he’d get it all done eventually.

By that Time, his younger mate was supposed to be in Mountain View, California as GN’R toured with Iron Maiden and LA Guns. Their next show was in Irvine before they got a month off the road, and he couldn’t have been more exited, if he’d tried. He was hoping to get Duff out to the new house at some point during that month and see if he actually liked it, not to mention just get to spend Time with him. Such a separation was inevitable, which he’d learned while he was with Nikki, but that didn’t mean he’d to like it–especially when he was in a very vulnerable spot like he was now.

On the Morn of June tenth, the Day after GN’R’s show in Irvine, Bobby’d stretched out across his bed for a nap around ten. He’d been woken around five by a kick to the bladder, which’d resulted in him staying up since he was too hungry to sleep once he’d Silenced the bladder alarm. Thankfully, his unborn daughter seemed content to just snuggle within him as if she’d already been born and was snuggled in his arms instead. Even still, he was oblivious to the rest of his band, his younger mate’s, and Mötley Crüe rolling up outside the house to Dominate his driveway and what lil curbside parking he’d available to him. In fact, he didn’t even hear Bret unlock the front door with the key he’d given him, so he was definitely unaware of the surprise he’d planned.

As he walked up to the house the Poison vocalist _said_ was his mate’s, the younger bassist couldn’t help but be surprised by how it looked a bit old-World. Said vocalist chuckled and told him that the Realtor’d said it was a Cape Cod-style build, but he didn’t really know the difference. The only thing he really knew was that Bobby’d fallen in Love with all the River rock that lined the front of the house and the patio out back, as well as all the Stone tile and hardwood flooring inside. He’d sworn that the house just _Called_ to him, and the price actually having been dropped down to around five hundred grand couldn’t be passed up.

“Hey, as long as he’s happy with it,” Duff chuckled as they quietly made their way to the kitchen.

“Ya sound like you’re _not_ happy with it,” Vince mused, setting down the bags he’d been carrying.

“It’s not that I don’t like it–or even care whether I’d a say in the house he bought or not,” the younger bassist elaborated. “But whether I ever move in with him or not, _he’s_ the one who’s to be happy with him–he’s the one trying to start over, not me.”

“That _does_ kinda make sense,” Mötley’s lead guitarist said thoughtfully. “Best that Bobby be the happier party here, ’cuz if he ever outgrows this house, they can always find a new one that _both_ agree on later.”

“My point exactly,” he agreed with a nod. “So, just what the hell’re we doing, Bret?”

“Bobby hasn’t even _thought_ of a baby shower, he’s been so focused on moving and setting up a nursery,” Bret answered with a grin. “So, I got to thinking that we oughta give him one, if only so he’ll have shit like diapers on hand when the big Day arrives.”

“Ya sure he’ll like that, though?” Tommy asked. “I mean, ya know him better than I do and all, but it seems like it might be a bit much after everything else.”

“That’s why it’s more of a Sunday football thing with a few baby notes thrown in,” the vocalist chuckled. “Or at least, that’s how I’ve been imagining it.”

“Subtle, but still gets the real theme across,” Rikki mused. “I like it.”

“Gives him a chance to celebrate being pregnant, but shouldn’t be too overwhelming, either,” GN’R’s lead guitarist agreed.

Nodding, the blue-eyed blonde vocalist took charge so they could start setting up, preferably _before_ the older bassist woke from his nap. Since they hadn’t found him anywhere downstairs when they’d searched upon putting their bags down, it was a pretty safe bet that he was upstairs. And the only reason that man was ever quiet unless he was pissed off was when he was asleep, ’cuz he’d never been very quiet about crying.

Duff soon caught a soft rustling from upstairs due to his heightened hearing, which made him quietly shush the guys. Hearing the soft Sound again confirmed what he’d thought he’d heard, and he told them to keep quiet as they continued setting up for the baby shower. Nodding, all of the guys got back to work as he headed for the foyer, more grateful than ever for his Silent tread as he started up the stairs. The older bassist was no doubt gonna be surprised when he saw him–and in his house, at that–but he knew he’d be more than happy to see him.

Stepping outta the bathroom, Bobby let out a soft _mraw_ as he rubbed his lower back, which’d started to hurt more as his daughter put on more weight. At first, he didn’t even notice that he wasn’t alone, but hearing a soft rustle from next to the door made him look up from the feet he couldn’t see anymore with a gasp. He was almost ready to fight at first, but registering that it was just his younger mate made a sleepy grin stretch across his face as he headed straight for him.

 _“Mraw_ –when the hell’d _you_ get here?” he asked as he gave him a tight hug. “And more importantly, how’d ya get in here without me hearing ya?”

“Ah, ya know–Rikki and Sirena decided to help a Fox out,” Duff chuckled as he Returned the hug.

“Uh, huh–and I’m eight feet tall,” the older bassist laughed. “’Cuz I doubt you’d have recovered from Transference _that_ fast.”

“Who says I didn’t just wait downstairs till I _did_ before I came up?” he asked, grinning at him.

 _“Mraw?”_ Bobby cocked an ear toward the door as he thought he heard something downstairs. “The hell was that?”

“I doubt it’s anything to worry about,” the younger bassist told him, leaning down to nuzzle his temple.

Thoroughly distracted, he couldn’t help but sigh happily, even as he Wished that his younger mate’d kiss him.

“Bring him on down, Duff!” they soon heard from downstairs.

“Will do!” Duff responded with a chuckle.

“Huh–what on Earth?” the older bassist asked, looking confused.

“Just c’mon, hon–I’ve a feeling you’ll like your surprise,” he answered, still grinning as he gently pried him loose and took his hand.

Bobby wasn’t too sure what to make of that, but obediently followed his younger mate, who made sure not to go too fast for him so he wouldn’t trip and fall. Once down in the foyer, he couldn’t help another yawn as said mate gently turned him in the Direction he wanted him to go since his eyes were closed. He didn’t know what part of the house he was steering him to, but he didn’t exactly care since he was by his side and would no doubt protect him from anything.

Getting into the living room, he couldn’t help a gasp when he opened his eyes and saw what’d been done–and _who_ it’d been done _by_. Duff stood back as he let the remainder of the three bands come up to hug his mate and congratulate him again on his pregnancy. He still couldn’t wipe that grin off his face, if only ’cuz he was happy that he wasn’t reacting badly to the surprise baby shower.

The older bassist couldn’t help a few happy tears–his hormones were totally haywire, after all–as they each gave him a hug before making him settle on the couch. Like Bret’d said, he hadn’t even thought of a baby shower since he’d been so busy trying to find a new house, then moving into it after closing. In fact, he hadn’t even put any Thought into going out and really getting started on his baby shopping, which he knew would have to be done soon. As it was, he was already pushing six and a-half months pregnant–it wouldn’t be much longer before his baby girl decided to make her grand entrance. Not only that, but he’d think he’d plenty of Time to get everything done while that Time was really flying by faster than he realized till the big Day.

Everybody put together plates from the food his best friend had bought for the baby shower, the younger bassist taking care of making his for him. Once they’d all served themselves, they settled in the living room so they wouldn’t have to scream across the house to have a conversation while they were eating. Bobby couldn’t help the smile that Dominated his face, even as he chewed each bite he took, since this was definitely a pleasant surprise for him. In fact, while he kinda wanted to bean said best friend for this, he appreciated the Thought and effort too much to actually do it.

“All right–so, what crazy baby games’ve ya got planned, ya dork?” he asked once they’d all taken care of their trash.

“Well, I tried to keep it tame,” Bret chuckled. “I mean, I was going for something more along the lines of Sunday football with a few baby notes so we wouldn’t overwhelm ya.”

“Which I definitely appreciate,” the older bassist admitted. “I mean, it’s kinda bittersweet since Nikki’s not here to experience this, too.”

“And I was trying to keep that in mind,” he told him. “But first game– _Guess the Baby.”_

“Wait, what?” Bobby asked, unable to help a laugh.

“We’ve pictures of all of us as babies or toddlers, and we’ve to guess who we think is who,” Rikki explained with a grin.

“They’re each numbered, so we write down whether we think number one’s me, Axl, Izzy–ya get the idea,” the vocalist continued.

“Okay, this actually sounds fun,” he admitted with a grin of his own. “I’ve actually always been pretty good at shit like this.”

Laughing, the guys let him take the first turn, a small notebook resting on his knee as he studied the group of baby pictures laid out in front of him. He wasn’t surprised to count a total of thirteen–which actually happened to be the _Witch’s number_ –and he already knew which ones were him and Nikki. Clearly, Bret’d wanted to make sure his late boyfriend got as much representation as he could for being dead, and that was another one of the lil things that he appreciated about this.

After he’d made his numbered list of guesses, Bobby sat back on the couch with a hand resting on his belly, his lil sheet ripped out. The younger bassist was the next on to make his list of guesses, obviously already knowing what number’d been assigned to his own baby picture. From there, he passed the lil notebook on down the line, Izzy being the next up since he was seated on the couch to his right.

Once everybody’d made their lists–Bret being the only one who didn’t actually play since he already knew the answers–it was Time to find out who’d the best guesses. Surprisingly, the older bassist turned out to be better at this game than he’d let on, ’cuz aside from obviously knowing his and both mates’ baby faces, he’d gotten all the others right, too. The only one who came anywhere near close after him was Duff, who still proved not to be as good at it as he turned out to be. And no one was surprised when CC and Slash actually tied for worst, having missed damn near every single one, despite how hard they’d studied the pictures.

“Damn, ya really _are_ pretty good at this, Bobby,” Vince laughed.

“What can I say? I’m more observant than I let on,” he chuckled, rubbing his belly. “I pick up on shit, like the way a person’s eyes tilt or something, that most don’t pay attention to.”

“I’m sure ya already knew your baby picture, as well as Nikki’s and Duff’s, though,” Izzy told him with a smirk.

“Course I knew mine and Nikki’s,” the older bassist snickered. “Duff was just a lucky guess ’cuz of paying attention to his adult features so well.”

“All right, this next game–it’s definitely unconventional,” Bret said once everybody’d settled down. “We’re gonna be testing our artistic abilities.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, getting a feeling there was a _catch-.22_ here.

“We’re gonna be drawing what we think this lil princess’ll look like on paper plates,” the vocalist explained, gently patting his belly. “But there’s a catch.”

“I fuckin’ knew it!” Bobby laughed, the others looking curious.

“The paper plates’re gonna be on top of our heads while we’re drawing,” he told them, a devious twinkle in his eyes.

Most of the guys thought such a game was absolutely ridiculous, a couple choosing not to participate like a pair of spoil-sports. The End results of seeing their friends try to draw any semblance of a baby’s face on the paper plates was absolutely hilarious. In fact, the poor older bassist Ended up having to excuse himself for a quick bathroom break, all the laughter bringing him a lil too close to pissing his pants than he woulda liked, especially when his baby girl decided to kick him again.

Bret’s next game was a baby shower classic, and he’d definitely come prepared with several skeins of Cotton yarn, all of them dyed pink. Everybody who wanted to–which was all of the guys this Time–was supposed to pull out the length of yarn they thought it’d take to wrap all the way around Bobby’s belly. He didn’t think it’d take much, ’cuz he felt like he hadn’t grown as much as he shoulda for being so far into his pregnancy, but even he might be wrong about that. Some of the possible guesses were absolutely hilarious, making him mock an outraged squawk, but others didn’t seem like they’d be enough. Duff was one who was careful in his guess, and he actually turned out to be the winner of that game by a mere centimeter.

The vocalist’d planned the next game for outdoors, if only to keep his best friend from trying to kill him for ruining his house and making a mess. Cocking their brows, the guys all wondered just what he was up to, which just made him grin as he headed out back for a few minutes. Once he was set up, Bret Returned to get the guys so he could take them out back, he and the younger bassist helping the expectant mama up.

On the patio, he’d set up eleven buckets of Water since he didn’t really wanna play this game and figured that his best friend wouldn’t wanna, either. The premise of it was a lot like bobbing for Apples during Halloween, but instead of Apples, they’d be bobbing for baby bottle nipples to stick with the theme. No one could help a round of raucous laughter at the absurdity of it, but they’d to admit that it was pretty funny and Creative, if he was going for an original idea.

“So, what stupidity’ve ya got for us next?” Axl asked. Judging by the grin on his face, he was actually having fun with the _stupidity_.

“Well, this one can be done indoors or out,” the blue-eyed blonde vocalist answered with a grin.

“Oh, really?” Slash asked, a brow cocked–even though it couldn’t be seen through his wild mass of curls.

“If it’s done indoors, we’re using quarters–if it’s done outdoors, it’s gonna be done using Water balloons,” he answered.

“Oh, now this is gonna be good,” the older bassist laughed.

“Call it making fun of ya, if ya wanna, man–but I think it’ll be hilarious to give them a taste of your constant potty breaks,” Bret snickered.

“Just how’re ya gonna do _that,_ though?” he asked. “It’s not like their kidneys’re in overdrive and they’re full of baby, too!”

“True, but it’ll be funny to watch them waddle across the yard or living room, a quarter or a Water balloon held between their knees like they’re actually making a bathroom run and trying to hold it,” the vocalist laughed. “Especially the Water balloons, ’cuz they can’t _let their water break_ while they’re waddling.”

Bobby couldn’t help cracking up at the mental image of all these guys, no matter how macho or effeminate, waddling across his back yard with Water balloons between their knees.

“Sounds like the mama-to-be approves!” Poison’s lead guitarist cackled.

“Damn right, I do!” he laughed, even as he jumped up to duck behind the seating wall that lined one side of his patio.

“Ya all right, hon?” Duff asked, sounding concerned.

“Too far to the bathroom!” the older bassist answered.

Everybody in the back yard cracked up, even as he fished himself out to piss once he was hidden and flipped them off with his free hand.

“And that’s the misery I think all of us need as much a taste of as we can get,” Bret chuckled once they’d Calmed down.

“I say ya do it with the Water balloons,” his best friend said as he tucked himself back into his britches, then moved to reclaim his seat. “Then you’ll see what it feels like to have to walk around in wet britches till ya can change like I do.”

Like the _bobbing-for-nipples_ game, the only one besides him who chose to sit this one out was Mötley’s lead guitarist. With his crippling ankylosing spondilitis, Mick couldn’t really do anything that was gonna aggravate his back or hips, such as hunching over the tubs of Water or trying to waddle with a quarter or Water balloon between his knees. Everybody could understand that and were quick to encourage him to sit it out, if it was gonna cause him pain that’d take a couple weeks to recover from.

Watching the participating members of Mötley, GN’R, and Poison take their places at the starting line, Bobby couldn’t help the grin that was on his face. Most of them’d opted to strip off their jeans or leather britches–whichever they happened to be wearing–to make moving easier. That left eight of them in just their boxers since it turned out that none of them wore tightie-whities–which was prolly a good thing for their Sanity.

Once they were all in position with their Water balloons held between their knees–well, more like about three inches above their knees–the older bassist’s grin grew. Calling out the commands, he set them to their marks before dropping his arm as he yelled _Go!,_ which sent them all scurrying toward the finish line. The object was to make it to the now-empty buckets, which were serving as a toilet of sorts, without popping the Water balloons–hence, breaking their Water. After making it to the potty, as it were, they were supposed to drop the intact Water balloons into the buckets in a symbolic manner. It was making it without breaking their Water–or maybe more aptly, pissing themselves–that was the hilarious part to watch.

Duff prolly looked the funniest besides CC, ’cuz it was hilarious to watch a giant like him try to waddle across the yard without popping his Water balloon. Watching Poison’s lead guitarist was prolly the second funniest, ’cuz he was such a short-stub–especially compared to the younger bassist–since he was only five-seven. Surprisingly enough, though, it was the aforementioned blonde giant who made it to his bucket without popping his Water balloon and dropped it in first. He almost immediately had to dart behind the seating wall where he wouldn’t traumatize the others and take a piss break of his own, but he still managed to win the game.

“All right, that’s pretty much the last game I’d actually planned,” Bret chuckled, everybody who’d popped their Water balloons drying off.

“So, anything else is just spur-of-the-moment?” the younger bassist asked. He grabbed his leather britches after tucking himself back into his boxers before rejoining the group.

“Pretty much, so we can either stay out here, or head back into the house,” he answered, nodding.

“I’m kinda enjoying being outside,” Bobby said, sprawled out in one of the few lounge chairs he’d bothered buying in the past week.

“Yeah, it’s not too hot, nor too cold,” Izzy agreed. “Does a body good to spend some Time outdoors.”

“Might as well stay out here, then,” Mötley’s vocalist laughed as he settled down.

“As long as ya keep it down, gentlemen.”

Startled, the group whirled to face the gate that’d be on the right side of the house when looking from the front, where they found at least two cops.

“Uh, how can we help ya, officer?” Duff asked, getting up outta his seat.

“Got a noise complaint from one of the neighbors,” the cop responded. “What’ve ya got going on out here?”

“Eh, just a group of friends hanging out,” Vince answered. Even he was wary of these guys, especially since they couldn’t really explain the baby shower part.

However, it was Bobby who noticed something he wasn’t sure even his mate did, and he pushed himself up outta his chair. “Duff, stick with me, ’cuz I don’t trust these guys.”

Nodding, the younger bassist made to follow him out the gate.

On the other side of it, he looked the cop in the eye and let out a questioning _Mraw?_ he’d no doubt he’d understand, if his suspicion was right. The cop looked surprised at first, then gave him a suspicious look, especially since he’d singled him out and gently pulled him away from his partner, who was undoubtedly human. Knowing he wouldn’t get him to listen otherwise, he reached up and ruffled his hair enough to reveal his ears, his mate looking surprised till the cop reached up and removed his hat.

“I thought so,” the older bassist chuckled. “The Dom’s all over your scent.”

“Damn, how the fuck’d I miss that?” Duff asked with a chuckle of his own.

“Too many scents, I guess,” he answered, shrugging. “Course, my senses’ve seemed to be even more heightened the past few months.”

“Whaddaya mean, sir?” the cop asked, sounding curious now.

“The reason we’ve been so loud is ’cuz my friends decided to throw me a surprise baby shower,” Bobby answered, absently rubbing his belly.

 _“Ahhhh.”_ He nodded as everything clicked. “Now I get why ya wanted your friend with ya, but didn’t want my partner over here.”

“Yeah, none of us’re a threat–at least, that I know of,” the older bassist chuckled. “But as a fellow Zorro, ya know how dangerous it can be to tell just anyone what I really am, and especially if and when I’m pregnant.”

“That, I most certainly do,” he agreed with a nod.

“So, no way would I come over here without my mate at my side, just in case _you_ tried something since I can’t really fight back right now,” he told him.

“You’d be stupid to do otherwise,” the cop chuckled. “So, I’ll tell ya what.”

Even the younger bassist’s ears were perked up as he wrapped an arm around his mate and pulled him protectively against his side.

“Ya guys just tone it down, and we won’t have any problems, got it?” he said. “But if we’ve to come back out here, that’s when the trouble’s gonna start.”

“Guess we might be taking this back inside,” Duff mused with a smirk. “I don’t think those idiots know the meaning of quiet. What about you, hon?”

“Well, we’re all kinda in rock bands–quiet’s not exactly in our line of work,” Bobby chuckled. “Shitty part of having neighbors, I tell ya.”

Not even the cop was immune to a bout of laughter at that, even though he could tell they were gonna keep their word of doing what they could to tone things down. Waving his partner back over from where he’d been watching warily, he watched the young couple head back to rejoin their group of friends. Hopefully, they wouldn’t get anymore calls about this particular residence anytime soon, but that was yet to be determined.

In the back yard, the older bassist let everyone know that they’d worked everything out, but they were gonna have to watch out loud they got. That didn’t stop the grin on his face as he jerked his head back toward the house, telling them he’d purposely bought a pre-soundproofed house so he’d be able to practice without disturbing anyone else. All the guys started laughing as they got up to head back inside, knowing that having a practice Space was crucial in their industry. Having it soundproofed–both to avoid conflicts with the neighbors _and_ once his baby girl arrived–was a must for Bobby, as well.

Once everybody was back in the house, they were free to crack and cut up as much as they wanted, no matter how loud they got. Duff was just glad to see his mate having a good Time, knowing this was something he’d needed for months after losing his older mate. He’d needed to let loose in a healthy way, but he just hadn’t been too sure how to help him do that without crossing any boundaries. As long as this kinda behavior continued, he’d consider it a good thing for as long as he lived and had the older bassist in his Life.


	8. Eight

For the next month while he was off the road for a break, Duff spent pretty much all his Time with his pregnant mate. It hadn’t take him long to reassure him that he liked the house he’d picked–which he was slowly, but surely moving moving into with him. The poor guy’d seemed so anxious about whether he really did or not, almost to the point that it reminded him of himself when he was on the verge of a panic attack. He hated when one of those damn things’d start, which was the biggest reason he couldn’t say he’d ever walked the straight and narrow, and be telling the Truth. Seeing his mate so worked-up over something so silly–especially with precious cargo on board–made him wanna do everything in his Power to Change that.

While he’d the physical help since he knew he’d need it, Bobby insisted on getting the nursery shopping done so he could start setting up the nursery. He assured the younger bassist that, if he Changed his mind about where a piece of furniture was settled, he’d call Bret or Rikki to help him move it once he headed back out on tour. That was a good enough response for him, and he was more than agreeable to helping him with putting furniture together once it was delivered.

Having known for a couple months that he was having a girl, he decided that he wanted to go with something fairly Light and Airy theme. Beyond that, the older bassist didn’t exactly have a particular design in mind for his baby girl’s nursery–he just wanted to go to a baby store and see what _Called_ to him. Maybe he’d End up finding something he otherwise wouldn’t have that he really liked and thought was perfect, as compared to if he’d already settled on a particular design. Duff thought that was a great idea and was all for going with him, praying that no fans of either of their bands recognized and accosted them.

“Welcome to BuyBuyBaby!”

Walking into the nearest baby store they’d been able to find, Bobby couldn’t help his Anxiety as he twined his Glamoured tail with that of his mate, who’d also Glamoured his tail.

“Anything I can help ya with today, gentlemen?” the woman who’d greeted them asked.

“Ah, ya know–found out my girlfriend and I’ve a baby on the way recently,” Duff was quick to answer. “Next thing ya know, we split up, so now I’ve to design a nursery at my place like she does.”

“Wanna have it all set up long before ya need it, huh?” she chuckled.

“Yeah, pretty much,” the younger bassist answered. “And my friend, here tendsta be more of an artist than me, so I begged him to help me out.”

“Yeah, I _do_ tend to have a pretty good eye for design,” Bobby chuckled, resisting the urge to rub his belly.

“Well, if ya need any help, don’t hesitate to let us know,” the woman told them.

“I think we’re just gonna browse for now, see if anything jumps out at us,” he responded with a smile. “We might not actually get anything, but rather come up with our own design based on something we see.”

Duff was quick to grab a cart, just in case they _did_ find something that Called to both of them before they headed off to the baby section since this store also catered to toddlers and young children. This might not be _his_ kit in the biological sense, but he already loved the baby girl as if she was, and he wouldn’t Change that for the World. Besides, if it meant he was able to better be there for his mate when he needed him most, he’d love any kit he ever had as if it were his own.

In the crib bedding section, the older bassist started browsing almost immediately, his tail still twined with his mate’s. While he preferred purple when he thought of anything to do with his unborn daughter, he fully Intended to keep his mind open to anything. After all, he might find something that was in pink or some other Color that he thought was perfect instead of something purple.

After a couple minutes of letting his eyes roam, Bobby gasped softly when he spotted a crib set that was absolutely gorgeous–and certainly _not_ what he’d originally had in mind. While it was mostly Turquoise-blue and Coral-pink on a white back drop, there were certainly other Colors incorporated into the design. It Called to him so strongly, though, ’cuz the Feathers that were all over what appeared to be a crib blanket were Calling to his Native American heritage. Few knew that he was actually of German and Native American descent, but he wouldn’t deny it to the ones smart enough to pick up on the clues. There were a few physical features that gave him away, and his surname most certainly did to those who were interested in other cultures.

The excitement in his mate’s eyes when he grabbed the package and looked up at him made the younger bassist chuckle as he helped him pull it down. He wasn’t quite sure why he seemed to gravitate toward this particular set, but he wasn’t about to say no to him, no matter his reason. Granted, that didn’t stop him from voicing his Curiosity, although he certainly wasn’t expecting the answer he got since he’d admit that he didn’t know very much about his mate.

“I’ve a lotta Native American blood in me,” Bobby told him.

“Wait, really?” he asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Yeah, from my mom’s side of the family,” the older bassist answered, nodding. “Look at my eyes and nose, in particular–it’s not very obvious, if ya dunno what to look for, but it’s there.”

Duff peered at him thoughtfully, his jaw dropping slightly when he saw what he meant. “You’re talking about how your eyes tilt downward at the outer corners and the kinda Hawk-like look to your nose, right?”

_“Mmm hmm,”_ he hummed, unable to help a smile. “My cheekbones aren’t quite as high as a lotta Natives’, but they’re still kinda high for a lotta races.”

“I can see it, now that I’m paying attention,” the younger bassist chuckled. “So, how does that play into this particular crib set?”

“Well, think about all the Feathered things ya see in Native American cultures,” Bobby said. “It kinda hints at the heritage without being insanely obvious.”

_“Hmm,_ that’s a good point,” he admitted as he thought about it. “And the Colors aren’t half-bad, either.”

“No, they’re not,” the older bassist agreed. “And Natives use a lotta different types of rocks and other gemstones for different reasons. Actually, the Apaches and Navajos were big users of Turquoise, ’cuz it’s a pretty common Stone in the Southwest.”

“Sounds like we’ve found out crib set,” Duff chuckled. “I wonder if there’s any other _décor_ that goes with it?”

Letting out a chuckle of his own, he told him that there was only one way to find out, and that was to keep browsing through more of the store before he got too tired and sore. Nodding his agreement, the younger bassist hefted the crib bedding’s package into the basket of the cart, even though it wasn’t exactly heavy. He didn’t want his mate getting hurt by picking even this up, considering that it wouldn’t take much to make him strain his back right now.

The eleven-piece set included the blanket–which was also reversible for a different pattern–a solid turquoise fitted sheet, diaper stacker, throw pillow, and toy bag. In addition to that were two window valances and three pieces of wall Art, but they were pretty sure there was plenty more than that. Listening to their instincts turned out to be a good thing, though, ’cuz they were certainly right on that count as they kept venturing.

Further down the aisle were more fitted sheets–these in solid Coral, the Feather pattern, and one in the geometric pattern on the reverse side of the blanket–and even a mini sheet that looked like it could be useful for a bassinet. There were also ruffled crib skirts in solid Coral and solid Turquoise, not just the Feathered one that was part of the eleven-piece set, as well as a reversible four-piece bumper set. But as if that wasn’t enough, there was even a matching mobile, lamp shade, floor rug, laundry hamper, changing pad cover, and tons more. Duff was surprised to even see a matching shower curtain, which just seemed silly to him unless there were sets for toddler beds and whatnot for later on down the road.

By the Time they’d everything the set included in the cart, Bobby couldn’t help a laugh as he realized they actually needed two carts. He somehow managed to keep anything from falling and getting broken as his mate headed back up front for that second cart, his ears flicking almost constantly. There wasn’t anyone to watch his six while he was alone, so he’d to heavily rely on his senses, and that included his heightened hearing. Luckily, no one tried to accost him before the younger bassist Returned, and he couldn’t be more thankful for that.

“All right, let’s get all this spread out a lil more,” he said.

“Sounds good, if only so none of this falls and gets broken,” the older bassist agreed.

Nodding, Duff started moving what was on top, making sure to position things so nothing got flattened by a heavier piece.

“Let’s get up front and check out,” he sighed. “My feet’re starting to hurt.”

“Then let’s go, ’cuz I know how ya get when that happens,” the younger bassist chuckled.

“Hey, not like I can help it,” Bobby laughed, pushing the lighter cart.

“Well, technically, ya _coulda,”_ he snickered. “Ya didn’t necessarily _have_ to have sex the Nightcha conceived, after all.”

“Maybe I didn’t, but it was totally worth it,” the older bassist shot back with a grin.

Duff couldn’t help laughing as they got up to the register to start loading their items onto the belt so they could check out. He knew this pregnancy’d been harder on his mate than he’d ever admit to, given his loss almost as soon as he’d found out about it. But with that loss factored into it, he knew he’d never regret keeping this kit since it was the last part of his lost Love he’d ever have.

Once they were checked out and Bobby’d taken the receipt, they started pushing the carts back out to his car to load it all up. The younger bassist wasn’t about to tell him that he couldn’t wait to get back to the house, his own Anxiety starting to act up more than he’d like. In fact, it was acting up to the point that he could feel a panic attack coming on, and he was trying to fight it off as much as he could. As long as their purchases were loaded up, he wouldn’t like letting it start once he was settled in the passenger’s seat, but he could deal with that better than the embarrassment of letting it start outside the car.

In the car after practically begging the older bassist to drive back, he couldn’t help grabbing his hair with both hands and tugging slightly. Rather than trying to rip said hair out, he was actually using it as one of the few ways to ground himself so he could even manage deeper breaths like he knew he needed. Clearly worried about him, he quickly got them on the road to home, although he was careful so he wouldn’t get them into a wreck on their way there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, short chapter, I know, but my brain's just not wanting to get in gear tonight. Considering I've been up for almost 12 hours and my elbow's killing me to the point that I'd to bust out one of my elbow braces for some serious compression therapy, maybe it's a better idea for me to take a break and keep going on this later, given that I've tons of ideas.
> 
> In the meantime, here's a picture of the nursery set that caught my eye when I did an online search for something that'd _Call_ to Bobby in the story. Not exactly one of my favorites, but it ties in to his Native American heritage that even I can see when I look at pictures of him.  
> ~Firefly
> 
> Link to Nursery Set–https://b3h2.scene7.com/is/image/BedBathandBeyond/1265643237988c?$690$&wid=690&hei=690


	9. Nine

The next couple weeks were some of the hardest that the young bassists’d ever faced, but Bobby felt like that prolly more so than his younger mate. Duff’s panic disorder was really acting up, which he was essentially trying to medicate with alcohol once his mate fell asleep for the Night. Course, getting absolutely rotted wasn’t really helping that, as the amount of sugar consumed by drinking actually made the panic attacks more and more frequent. He just didn’t know what else to do besides getting so rotted, he’d barely make it into the guest bed before passing out and waking up hungover as hell the next Morn.

At least he was able to pull himself together enough during the Day to avoid leaving the older bassist to do all the nursery setup on his own. While he’d freak and lapse into a panic attack at the mere Thought of leaving the house most of the Time, he didn’t seem to have as many problems, if they were planning on staying at home for the Day.

It was those Days they spent at home that Duff refused to let his mate anywhere near the nursery when he was painting it. Sure, working in a well-ventilated room was important for even him, but not quite as much as the older bassist since he didn’t have precious cargo on board. However, it seemed that said mate was more than content to let him paint the bedroom he’d designated as the nursery, which allowed him to stay off his feet more by relaxing on the couch as he worked on a project most wouldn’t have expected outta him.

Bobby’d learned how to crochet from a combination of his late boyfriend and said Cat’s grandmother, Nona, during the Years they’d been together. It honestly hadn’t taken him long to figure it out, and having such long, dexterous fingers–which obviously came in handy with playing guitar and bass–helped with that. At the moment, he was working on a scarf that was supposed to look like a Spiral of Dragon wings, and if it was made big enough, it could also be a shawl. He figured this’d be something cool that he could wear when he wasn’t perpetrating the typical bad-boy rock ‘n’ roll look, not to mention help with nursing. The way it was designed, it could help cover up his daughter as she fed like a receiving blanket would, but look way cooler.

_“Whew.”_

The older bassist looked up from his project as his mate flopped down on the couch beside him, chuckling as he saw the look on his face. “Ready to fall over, huh?”

“Ready to pass out, more like,” Duff chuckled, sounding a bit breathless. “Now I remember why I hate repainting rooms, even with the windows open.”

“Yeah, the fumes _do_ start getting a lil strong after a while, don’t they?” he asked.

“A lil?” the younger bassist countered with a laugh. “Try a lot, hon!”

Bobby couldn’t help a laugh of his own as he laid his project aside so he could lean over to kiss him. “Well, lemme go take a potty break, and I’ll start on lunch while you’re catching your breath.”

“Ya don’t have to do that since I know your feet and ankles get sore and swell up so easily now,” he told him as he made to push himself up.

“Eh, I kinda _do_ –this girl’s getting hungry,” the older bassist said, grinning as he rubbed his belly.

“All right, all right–I can’t really argue with that,” Duff laughed. “But that doesn’t mean I’ve to sit here on my ass while you’re cooking, either.”

“Not unless I ban ya from my kitchen so you’ll catch your breath instead of falling face-first into a hot burner,” he snickered as he headed off to the bathroom.

Unable to help a laugh as he pushed himself up off the couch, anywhore, the younger bassist headed for the kitchen. He normally didn’t each much–he usually considered food a waste of stomach Space he could be using for drinking–but when he _did_ eat, he wouldn’t lie about eating like a Hog. Then again, after growing up the youngest of eight with food often running short, it was no Wonder he’d overeat half the Time when he actually went near food now.

His mate couldn’t help a chuckle as he joined him after taking that potty break, a hand resting on his belly as he tried to Soothe the kit within. She was starting to kick up a Storm as his stomach started to grumble, which was her way of telling him to get off his ass and go eat. After all, it wasn’t like she could go into the kitchen and get her own meal–she was unborn and relied solely on him to feed her.

Bobby couldn’t help a laugh as the giant who’d inadvertently granted him the gift of being able to see in Color again stopped what he’d been doing and knelt down in front of him. His fascination with his baby bump–which was still smaller than he felt it prolly should be for being so close to his due date–was downright cute. It never failed to bring a smile to his face to watch this giant of a man get down on his knees to practically worship the lil girl cradled within him. Actually, it was a rather heart-warming sight, to see that he loved this kit as if she were his own when she really belonged to another man.

“Ya know, I can’t help loving to see ya like this,” the older bassist said, smiling as he looked up at him.

“What–down on my knees and practically worshipping ya?” Duff asked with a chuckle, his hand shoved under his shirt so he could caress his bare flesh.

“Well, more like worshipping my daughter,” he answered. “I mean, she’s not even yours, butcha still seem to love her like she is.”

“’Cuz I _do,”_ the younger bassist told him. “Even though Nikki’s really her daddy, how can I _not_ love my mate’s kits like they’re my own, born or unborn?”

“Yeah, that’s a good point,” Bobby agreed with a nod. “It’d definitely put a strain on our relationship, even if he was still alive to help raise her, if ya _didn’t_ at least care about her.”

“Eh, I don’t have it in me to simply _care_ about my mate’s kits,” he told him. “I mean, I’ve seven older siblings that’ve given me upwards of twenty nieces and nephews already–even if I didn’t love your daughter as my own, I’d at least love her like another niece, if nothing else.”

“At least she’d still have a father figure, of sorts,” the older bassist sighed. “Course, even Rikki–I mean the Elf, not Poison’s drummer–could be that, too, but still…”

“I know whatcha mean, hon,” Duff told him, using the counter next to them to help push himself back to his feet.

The older bassist couldn’t help a sniffle, even though the smile still never left his face–till he felt another one of the cramps he’d been feeling lately. His mate frowned as he helped him settle on one of the bar stools, not wanting him to fall and hurt himself or his unborn daughter. All he could do at this point was just Comfort him till the cramp eased and finally subsided entirely, but at least he was there for him in his Time of need.

Bobby was soon able to take deeper breaths, a frown marring his own face as he wondered what on Earth was up with all the cramping. He hadn’t wanted to admit it before, but they’d been getting worse in the last Day or two, but his due date wasn’t for nearly another month. According to Sirena, he hadn’t conceived till around the End of November, which meant he shouldn’t be ready to pop till the End of August, give or take a week or two. These cramps and the fact that they were getting worse was really starting to worry him, and now that he knew about them, they were worrying the younger bassist, as well.

Dinner wasn’t even finished before another pain hit him, this one bad enough to make him cry out as he doubled over where he sat. Only not wanting to burn said dinner or set the house on Fire made Duff finish cooking and plate their food before he headed straight for his mate. If not for those reasons, he’d have abandoned his meal prep in favor of Comforting him again, not to mention keep him from falling off that bar stool as he rubbed his belly.

Unlike those previous cramps he’d been getting, this one took a couple minutesta finally fade enough for the older bassist to straighten again. He’d tears in his eyes as he sat up, one hand still gripping the counter beside him, albeit a lot looser than it’d been just moments ago. One knew he was in some pretty bad pain when it made him tear up, ’cuz he’d quite the pain tolerance, considering he’d to deal with period cramps every month before he’d conceived. Since he knew that about his mate, the younger bassist told him it was prolly a good idea to give Sirena a call, like it or not. After all, the Elvin woman was not only a mother in her own right, but she was his midwife, so maybe she’d know what was going on.

“Ye rang, kits?” she asked, appearing in the eat-in dining room with her husband at her side.

“Bobby’s been having cramps for the last Day or two,” Duff told her, still rubbing his back. “But he just had one that damn near knocked him off his bar stool a couple minutes ago.”

_“Ahhhh,_ I see,” the Elvin woman said, a Knowing tone to her voice as she nodded. “Let’s at least getcha on a towel on the floor, kit.”

“What–Why?” Bobby asked, unable to help a groan.

“Remember the pelvic exams I’ve given ya?” Sirena countered.

“Yeah, they fuckin’ suck,” the older bassist answered with a nod.

“Best to give ya one now,” she told him. “While it may be naught more than false labor, ’tis still better to check ya to be sure.”

“Wait, false labor’s a thing?” his mate asked, sounding surprised.

“Yea, fools women and male Fertiles–particularly first-Time mothers–more often than you’d think,” the Elvin woman laughed.

“’Tis why we encourage simply listening to one’s body so much,” Rikki chuckled as he spread a Beach towel on the floor. “There’re signs that can speak the difference between true labor and a bout of false labor.”

Nodding, Duff helped get his mate settled on the Beach towel, gently kissing his forehead as his midwife knelt down. He didn’t wanna see anyone else touching him in the one way he, himself hadn’t been Graced with yet, but he still wanted to be supportive. That support was greatly appreciated by the older bassist, who leaned against him and gripped his hand as feeling her fingers entering him made him grimace.

Both bassists were surprised when Sirena removed her hand moments later and said that she thought Bobby might actually be going into labor. With his due date still a month or so away, that freaked him out and made him worry about his unborn daughter, who’d settled down in the last few minutes. He couldn’t help thinking that something was wrong, if his body was trying to force her Birth too soon, but the Elvin woman was quick to reassure him. There might not be anything wrong with her, but rather she’d gotten just big enough that his body was starting the process early to avoid a C-section.

Even if that _was_ the case, she was quick to say that infants born a month early generally did just as well as if they’d made it all the way to their due dates. Generally, the only thing they faced might be a few mild breathing problems, but usually nothing too much worse than that. It wasn’t like they were as underdeveloped as they’d be at the Beginning of the seventh month, which’d definitely be cause for concern, if an expectant mother started contracting so soon.

Only slightly reassured by his would-be mother-in-law’s Confidence and Knowledge, he simply nodded and let her pull his sweats back up. The younger bassist was quick to help him back to his feet, gladly letting him lean on him since he knew it took him a few moments to find his balance. Even though this lil girl was apparently ready to make her grand entrance a bit too early, there didn’t seem to be anything they could do about it. In a case like that, Duff knew the worst thing in the World that he could do was abandon his mate when the kit’s father’d already done just that, in a way. Bobby needed him now more than ever, and he was hell-bound and determined to be there for him through the good, the bad, and the ugly.

* * *

Thirty hours later, after what Sirena assured them was a more or less normal length labor for a first-Time mother, Bobby was a proud and exhausted mama. He’d gotten a pretty big shock when he’d delivered his baby girl–whom he hadn’t decided on a name for–and felt the urge to push again just a couple minutes later. Sirena’d sworn he was just feeling the Beginning of the delivery of his daughter’s placenta, but something didn’t feel right to him. Whatever this was, it was too big to be just a placenta, and he didn’t have to ask the more experienced mother to find out that he was right.

A quick peek after handing the girl off to her husband to be assessed and wrapped up proved that the older bassist was, indeed right. The Elvin woman was quick to regain her composure, easily coaching him through the Birth of a surprise twin as easily as she’d coached him through the first delivery. It only took three or four more pushes before he found out he’d a son in addition to the daughter he’d known he was gonna have.

Hidden up closer to his ribs, he hadn’t really felt the boy moving as much as he’d felt his lil girl when she’d start kicking and squirming. That, or he’d felt his movements just as much and just assumed it was something along the lines of indigestion since he’d never been pregnant before. But giving Birth to this lil boy was a Blessing in a couple different ways, as proven when he opened his eyes and looked up at him with the same Sky eyes his daddy’d possessed. It was almost as if he were looking into the eyes of his lost Love once again, and he’d honestly forgotten to breathe for a few moments as he processed that physical trait. Once he processed it, he was quick to decide on a name for the boy, which was meant to be a tribute to his late daddy.

Even Duff was surprised when he said that he wanted to name his new son Nikolas Phoenix Dall-Sixx, but he couldn’t have come up with a better name for him, if he’d tried. Nikki’s name was actually Nikolas Ryan after he Changed it in the late-seventies, and Phoenix tied in well with the boy’s Zodiac sign. In being born a month early, he and his sister were both Leos instead of Virgos, so it made sense that they both have a Fiery name somewhere.

“I think they’re both gorgeous, hon,” the younger bassist said, smiling as he watched him nurse the kits once everyone was cleaned up and settled in bed.

“I swear, Lil Nikki looks just like his daddy,” Bobby chuckled, sounding every bit as exhausted as he looked.

“Normally, it’s the girls who look like their dads,” he mused with a chuckle of his own.

“Yeah, normally–but she looks more like me,” the older bassist said, craning his neck to kiss his daughter’s head.

The baby girl let out a slightly irritable _Mraw!_ around his nipple in a clear sign that she didn’t wanna be messed with while she was getting her noms on.

“Typical kit,” Duff laughed softly. “No touchie while they’re getting their noms on.”

“You’d think Mama’d be the only one to get away with that when nobody else would,” he told him. “But hey, she might be one where that Ends at Mama holding her.”

“Very well could be,” the younger bassist agreed, ever at the ready with whatever he needed–which happened to be fresh diapers at the moment.

“Thanks, love,” Bobby said, letting him take his unnamed daughter to burp once she finally spit his nipple out.

Nodding to let him know he’d heard him, he carefully cradled the baby girl the same way he’d seen his older siblings hold their own babies. He was careful about moving her to his shoulder, again mimicking a move he’d seen his older siblings make when they’d burp their infants. Duff didn’t even really pay attention to his mate watching him curiously, as well as mimicking his movements with his son, in favor of paying attention to the kit he held so tenderly.

It took only a few moments for her to let out a burp nobody could miss, it was so loud, which made him smile–even as she spit up on him a bit. The younger bassist didn’t mind such a thing happening, though–he knew she couldn’t help it at this age, and it wasn’t the first Time this’d happened to him. He simply grabbed a burp rag and gently cleaned up her lil face, then wiped off his bare shoulder once he’d moved her.

Bobby couldn’t help a loud yawn as he patted and rubbed Lil Nikki’s back, wanting nothing more than to pass out and stay that way for a week. He knew that wouldn’t happen without the Elves sticking around to help him, though, ’cuz the younger bassist was soon due to leave for tour again. And while he mighta been able to handle a single newborn kit on his own, he knew damn good and well he wouldn’t be able to handle twins by himself. Not only that, but he didn’t wanna neglect them by sleeping through their cries, if they exhausted him to the point that he fell into that deep of a slumber. It wasn’t like they could fend for themselves, nor like their daddy’d respond to their cries when he couldn’t since Nikki wasn’t on this Plane anymore.

Once the babies’d been burped and changed, Duff gently settled them in the bassinet they’d set up in the master suite for now. His mate’d insisted that his kit be close at hand once he gave Birth, but he didn’t want said kit getting used to sleeping in the bed with him. The best compromise they could come up with was a bassinet for the first three months or so, maybe less than that, if they proved to do better than expected. With the babies tucked in, he moved to tuck the older bassist in before joining him in that bed for the first Time since they’d found out they were mated, both needing some serious sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I'm baaaack!_ Didja goofs miss me? LOL!
> 
> Now that I'm almost done with Duff McKagan's book, the ideas're starting to flow again. That being said, I wanted to go ahead and post this chapter that I've been slowly working on between reading that aforementioned book during the last few Days before I head off to bed. Who knows what I'll do tomorrow after I get woken up and take care of a handful of chores?  
> ~Firefly


	10. Ten

_January, 1989_

_Greenville, South Carolina_

After an additional six months off from touring so that he could get used to–as far as he was concerned–being a single parent of twins, Bobby was preparing for his first show in over two Years. The last Time he’d played a live set was when Poison rounded out their _Look What the Cat Dragged In_ tour in July of 1987, mere months before he’d gotten pregnant and lost his boyfriend. He wasn’t entirely sure he was ready now, but he knew the longer he waited, the less likely he’d be to ever go onstage again.

Duff’d been an invaluable help with the twins when he was off the road from his own tour and actually sober, the latter of which didn’t happen nearly as often as he’d like. But even when he was so wasted, it took a bump of blow to wake him up enough to function–or a few pulls off his vodka bottle to bring him down from the blow a bit–he was already a helluva dad in all the best ways. There were tricks he knew that he’d picked up from watching all those older siblings over the Years, like cupping his hand slightly while patting a kit’s back to burp them. For some reason, doing that’d get them to burp faster than using a flat hand, but it was something the older bassist wouldn’t have thought of doing since he’d no experience in that department.

The Elves and even his own band mates were also an invaluable help as he settled into being a single mama, especially Bret and his band’s Rikki. It almost seemed like those two moved into his guest room when the younger bassist was on the road, which’d made him finally buy a third bedroom suit. After all, since his nursery design was more or less gender-neutral, he hadn’t bothered with setting up a second one just yet.

However, after his younger mate’d left to rejoin his band’s tour a couple weeks after Lil Nikki and his twin–aptly named Corona Soleil–were born, he’d come to a hard decision. Seeing the younger bassist almost constantly drunk and/or high, even though he’d a fairly good reason for it, was simply too much for Bobby. It brought back too many memories of the late bassist and reminded him of all the things said Cat’d never get to experience now. Besides, like a true Irishman–or even Italian, for that matter–the younger Zorro’d quite a temper, especially when he’d been drinking or otherwise doing something illicit.

“I just can’t handle raising two babies and trying to get him cleaned up, too,” he was telling his drummer as they helped each other get ready for their show.

“And ya shouldn’t have to,” Rikki said, carefully applying his eyeliner for him. “Not after the shitcha put up with outta Nikki for nearly five Years.”

“That’s exactly _why_ I can’t,” the older bassist sighed, blinking once he told him he could. “I can’t go through that again, not after how _that_ round Ended.”

“So, you’re gonna deny the mating pull, then?” he asked, Returning his eyeliner pencil to his makeup bag. “’Cuz you’re the one who’s told me that it’ll be hell on even _you,_ if ya do that.”

“No, I’m not gonna deny the mating pull altogether,” Bobby answered, shaking his head. “Kinda like I can’t take raising the twins _and_ trying to get Duff cleaned up, I can’t take what doing that’ll do to me.”

“Then what _are_ ya gonna do?” The drummer cocked a brow at him curiously.

“I don’t think I’ve any choice but to throw him outta my house till he either gets clean or dies–whichever comes first,” he told him, a heavy sigh following his words. “I mean, obviously I hope that he gets clean versus it killing him, but then again…”

“Since you’ve been through it once already, ya know ya can get through losing a mate again,” Rikki said, starting to get his train of Thought.

Nodding, the older bassist made it plainly obvious that he didn’t wanna have to even try to get through losing a second mate with any amount of Sanity left intact. Wishing Death on someone like that–even when they deserved it, or it’d be best for them–just wasn’t in the Nature of most Witches. Besides, he prolly wouldn’t get lucky enough to be Graced with a third mate, which’d leave him spending anywhere from three to four Centuries occasionally dating–maybe even getting married–but never having the same kinda connection with anyone else as he’d get with a mate.

Deciding it was best to End all talk of the matter so they could give the crowd their money’s worth tonight, Bobby said they’d talk about it more later. Maybe he and Bret could help him figure out how to tell the younger bassist that it was over till he got his act together in a gentle way. After all, he needed to get through to him so he’d understand how serious he was, but not so brutally that it completely broke his Spirit and Will to live.

* * *

It took the next couple weeksta figure out exactly how he wanted to go about it, but the older bassist finally made up his mind on how to break the newsta Duff. Regardless of how he did it, he realized that his younger mate wasn’t gonna be happy about knowing he’d have to Return from tour and clear his belongings outta his house. Even still, that didn’t mean he’d to be so brutal about it that he went out and got so wasted he got hit by a bus, or wound up simply deciding to kill himself.

Sitting down in the front lounge of Poison’s bus since he’d joined their tour for a lil bit of extra Time with him, Bobby took a deep breath. Despite having even CC there as his backup and moral support, he was still nervous about this, and he knew the younger bassist could feel it in his Energy. He was normally more of an Empath than a projector, but once he got so wound-up that he started projecting–well, his Emotions could slam into somebody like they’d hit a brick wall. There was no hiding his Anxiety from his younger mate, and he hoped that wouldn’t cause him to have a panic attack so bad that they couldn’t get this conversation taken care of and their feelings out on the table, so to speak.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he asked, reaching out to gently grab his hand.

“Duff, I’ve been thinking lately,” the older bassist started, momentarily pausing to clear his throat before looking him dead in the eye.

Duff’s pulse ratcheted up a few more notches when he saw that his mate’s eyes weren’t Darker than normal due to his pupils being dilated, but ’cuz of how serious he was.

“I wantcha to clear your shit outta my house once we both get back from our tours,” he said.

“Wh-What?” the younger bassist asked, rearing back like he’d been hit in the face with a brick.

“I’m not denying the mating pull, Duff–that’d be stupid since it’d rip my own heart out,” Bobby told him, feeling Bret and Rikki gently squeeze his shoulders. “But I can’t take seeing ya drinking and drugging all the Time, either.”

He almost didn’t hear him through the loud roaring that filled his ears, but somehow managed to focus on his words, anywhore.

“After what I went through with Nikki–seeing ya try to Self-medicate your childhood and panic attacks just hit too close to home,” the older bassist continued.

“I–I guess I can understand that,” Duff managed to grind out past the thump that now Dominated his throat.

“I’m not saying we’re splitting up indefinitely,” he reiterated as he squeezed his hand. “But I _do_ think we need some Time apart, thatcha need to go get professional help. Even if it takes ya longer than I’d like to see, I can work with ya at least _trying_ to get cleaned up–but I can’t just sit back and watch ya slowly kill yourself like Nikki did, either.”

Nodding, the younger bassist pulled his hand away and got up, walking off the bus without another word as he went to have a smoke and fully process what he’d just been told.

“Well, I guess that went better than expected,” Bret said, gently hugging his best friend when he teared up at seeing his mate leave.

“Then why does it feel like he just threw up a brick wall, and I ran head-first into it?” Bobby asked with a sniffle.

“Prolly ’cuz this was totally outta the blue for him, and he didn’t wanna make things worse by showing his ass for once,” the drummer told him.

“Yeah, ’cuz letting out that Irish temper’d be as bad as pissing me off right about now,” their lead guitarist chuckled as they turned Bret’s hug into a group-hug.

The older bassist let the trio of blondes practically wrap themselves around him like a giant Octopus, even though there was really only _one_ blonde that he wanted wrapped around him. He wanted Duff to come back and wrap him up in his embrace like he’d done for over a Year now and just hold him till the Sun rose in the Morn. But it seemed pretty obvious that that wasn’t gonna happen, and if it did, it wouldn’t happen till after he’d gotten at least somewhat cleaned up.

Sleep was long and hard in coming for him that Night, but Bobby contented himself with listening to the soft Sounds his kits made in their sleep. Lil Nikki and Corona were snuggled up together in the play pen he’d set up at the foot of the bed, which Dominated what’d normally be Poison’s back lounge on their bus. They’d been asleep since about the Time his band had gone onstage, and they’d stay asleep till at least seven the next Morn. Maybe that’d allow him to get at least a lil bit of sleep before then, but he was starting to think that wasn’t gonna happen. After all, it’d never been easy to sleep after breaking up with a Romantic partner, and having to do just that with a mate didn’t make it any easier for him.

Over the next few months, things didn’t get any easier for the seemingly Star-crossed bassists while they were on tour. GN’R didn’t close out their _Appetite for Destruction_ tour till a lil over a week before _Samhain,_ but their Lighter glam counterparts closed out theirs toward the middle of July. They’d decided on a much shorter tour than they’d done for their debut album, but it was a fine Balance of not overworking Bobby while giving the fans what they wanted.

After closing out those tours, Duff’d Returned to the house long enough to pack up his belongings and haul them out to Izzy’s house. His band’s rhythm guitarist was really the only one he could stand to be around right now, even though said guitarist was what he called a _maintenance guy_ with smack. While he knew that Slash’d understand and try to help him, the lead guitarist was too heavy a user for someone already dabbling with smack to be around, especially in his state. Steven’d try to help by being his typical bouncy Self when he wasn’t whacked-out on just as much smack, and trying to be around Axl’d no doubt get him slapped with murder charges when he exploded on the ginger the first Time he started acting like a diva.

The older bassist bit back tears as he watched his younger mate leave once he’d packed up his belongings and loaded them into the small U-haul he’d rented. He somehow got the feeling that this’d be the last Time he saw him alive, that the next Time he saw him, he’d be seeing him in his casket at his wake. Even though he got that really bad feeling, he tried to push it away and not think things like that.

If there was one thing that the Elves and even Nikki’d taught him Ages ago, it was that Thoughts were Energy just as much as words were. Thinking about something too hard and too much could easily make it Manifest, and the last thing he wanted was for another mate’s Death to happen ’cuz he kept thinking it would. Still, Bobby couldn’t help crying himself to sleep that Night after getting Lil Nikki and Corona to bed, the Year-old twins still sharing a crib. He hoped and prayed that things didn’t come to the same End with Duff as they had when he’d lost his older mate, but only Time’d tell if that’d be the case or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short, I know, but I've a handful of chores I need to take care of. After that, I wanna play my _Sims 2_ game a bit more while I'm letting my next few ideas percolate for a while longer, so hopefully I'll manage a longer chapter with the next update.  
> ~Firefly


	11. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so maybe not as long as I woulda liked, but it's currently almost 0200 where I'm at and I'm getting ready to head off to bed. However, I wanna make note of at least a couple things before we actually get into this chapter.
> 
> First and foremost, I wanna make it known that I'm well aware that the Timeline's a bit messed-up here–I did that on purpose. Duff actually suffered a bout of acute pancreatitis after the conclusion of GN'R's _Use Your Illusion_ tour and his 30th birthday in May, 1994–I Changed the Year to 1990 for purposes of keeping the story line in my head flowing the way I wanted it to.
> 
> Secondly, while a few of Duff's reasons for getting his act together in this story're the same, a few obviously didn't and wouldn't have existed when this actually happened to him. Again, I Changed those details for sake of keeping the story flowing.
> 
> That being said, let's End this author's note and get to it! Hope y'all enjoy!  
> ~Firefly

The first few months after he and Bobby effectively split up, Duff was an utter mess, and his entire band could see it. Even Slash and Izzy could when they were so high on smack, all they could do was nod on and off for most of the Day–or more aptly, Night. Hell, even Axl could see just how far downhill the giant of an Irishman was going, not to mention how quickly it was happening.

By the Time his twenty-sixth birthday rolled around in February, even Steven was really starting to worry about him and his condition. Needlessta say, they were all highly disturbed when he announced that he was going back home–and by home, he meant his hometown of Seattle. They honestly thought that if they let him leave now, it might be the last Time any of them–even the older bassist–saw him alive. What none of them realized was just how close to being right they were, ’cuz if they _had_ realized it, they’d have dragged him to the nearest rehab center to get dried out, kicking and screaming.

Up at the _vacation_ house he’d bought on the Shore of Lake Washington, the younger bassist holed up and locked himself away from the World. As far as he was concerned, there was no point in even being a part of it, if he couldn’t have his mate–and therefore the kits he’d been considering legally adopting as his own. In fact, there was no real reason for him to bother putting down the bottle, considering he didn’t have so much as the kits to help out with on a daily basis.

About three months after making the move back to Washington State–roughly six after the effective breakup–Duff’d passed out around four in the Morn. He’d gotten so wasted that he’d barely made it upstairs to his bed, so he definitely didn’t realize just how _off_ he felt by the Time he got there. It was only when he was jolted from sleep by a sharp, stabbing pain in his gut the next Morn that he realized something was wrong. The pain was worse than anything he’d ever felt–including practically having his right arm skinned at the age of twelve–and he couldn’t even try to call out for help. Hell, he couldn’t even crawl or scoot across his bed to grab the phone on the nightstand so he could even try to call EMS.

_Oh, God_ – _Andy, I’m upstairs!_ he thought when he heard his childhood best friend call out from somewhere on the first floor. _Wish I could come down, but I can barely breathe right now!_

It was almost as if he’d literally projected his Thoughts to the other man, ’cuz only moments later, he appeared in his bedroom. “Duff!” he cried, darting over to the bed when he saw him curled up in the fetal position. “What on Earth’s wrong with ya?”

“C-Can’t,” the younger bassist tried to force out. “H-Hurts!”

Gently pulling his arms away from his middle, Andy noted something he hadn’t–and that was how swollen his belly looked. “C’mon, man–I’m taking ya to see Dr. Thomas.”

Duff finally got out a scream as he sat him up, Stars dancing across his vision from the agony he was in.

“Ya gotta work with me, dude,” his friend told him. “You’re not a baby, so you’re not as easy to dress when ya don’t work with me.”

He somehow managed to get his limbs to cooperate so he could do as his friend asked of him, but it damn well wasn’t easy.

“All right–upsy-daisy!” Andy hoisted him up as gently as he could once he’d an arm wrapped around his shoulders, but he still wasn’t surprised by the piercing scream he let out.

By the Time they made it down to his friend’s car, the younger bassist thought for sure that he was dying, given the amount of pain he was in. There was no way he couldn’t be, and that just made him Wish it’d hurry up and happen, even with the lone Thought that crossed his mind. If there was one thing he’d Wish for right now besides a quick Death, it was that he got to see Bobby, Lil Nikki, and Corona one last Time before it finally happened.

* * *

Several hours and unanswered pleas to just kill him later, Duff’d been admitted to Northwest Hospital, mostly for observation. His long-Time physician, Dr. Thomas, had diagnosed him with a ruptured pancreas after insisting he be brought to the ER for a better exam. After all, his small, Primary care office just wasn’t equipped to handle even the pain he’d been in, let alone the actual cause of that pain.

At the moment, the younger bassist was resting as comfortably as he possibly could, given his diagnosis, since he’d been put on Morphine for the pain. He’d also been put on Librium to help with his alcohol detox, ’cuz as much as he was known to drink pretty much Day in and Day out, there was no way he was coming outta this without some serious withdrawal symptoms, if they didn’t. The fact that he was also on coke–the occasional bit of crack and smack–wouldn’t help that particular aspect either, but the medical staff was more worried about the alcohol withdrawals sending him into seizures.

He was sleeping deeply enough, despite the beeping of the monitor he’d been hooked up to, that he didn’t even notice the door to the room he’d been put in open and close quietly. He certainly didn’t realize his visitor was the one person he wanted to see so badly, but doubted would come anywhere near him right now. Even as Bobby settled in the chair next to his bed, the younger bassist remained out like a Light, his breathing deep and even like it always was when he was asleep or otherwise unconscious.

“Fuck, I can’t believe it almost happened again,” his mate whispered, tears welling up in his eyes. “And it’s partly my fault this Time.”

Duff didn’t respond till he gently grabbed his hand, which made him reflexively Return the squeeze it was given.

“Ya better not fuckin’ die on me, or I’ll get Elvin Rikki to Resurrect your ass so I can kick it,” the older bassist growled.

His ears twitched slightly at the Sound, quick to lock onto their source as he started to wake.

“It might not be as hard a second Time around, but I don’t wanna have to get through losing my mate again,” Bobby said, uncaring of whether he could actually hear him or not.

_“Mmm_ –Bobby?” The younger bassist’s brow furrowed before his eyes started to flutter open.

“Yeah, it’s me, hon,” he answered, the evil look on his face quickly morphing into a relieved smile. “C’mon, open those eyes for me–I miss that rich hazel.”

_“Ugggghhhh,”_ Duff groaned, feeling like it took entirely too much Energy to do as he asked. Once he got his eyes open, though, the Energy expended was more than worth it when he got to see his face again.

“Hey there,” the older bassist chuckled, gently squeezing his hand again.

“I–I didn’t think you’d come up here,” he said, having to pause to clear his throat. “I figured the last place you’d wanna be right now was around me.”

“You’re even more insane than I ever gave ya credit for,” Bobby told him with an eye-roll. “And I’d be even crazier _not_ to come visit my mate in the hospital, as long as there was a mate _to_ visit.”

Duff couldn’t help a chuckle, even though that made him since slightly.

“Hey, don’t be doing anything that’s gonna hurtcha,” his mate said, his expression shifting once again to worried. “I’m not the only one who needs ya to get better.”

He almost asked what he meant before remembering the twins–and getting yet another surprise.

“These two need the only daddy they’ve ever known to get better so he can wrestle with them again,” the older bassist said. Reaching slightly behind him, he pulled the twin stroller closer to reveal the snoozing toddlers he’d brought with him.

Unable to help a few tears of utter Joy, he was forced to reach up with his free hand to wipe away those tears so he could see clearly. He hadn’t thought he’d get to see Bobby again when he first woke up in such agony that Morn, so he certainly hadn’t expected this. Seeing Lil Nikki and Corona again, though–that reinforced what’d already started to go through his mind so that he’d no choice but to listen to himself, not to mention his doctor.

Duff swore up and down that he was gonna get clean like he shoulda done months ago, and if it wasn’t for himself or his own mother, it was gonna be for his mate and would-be kits. There was no one more important to him than his family, and it didn’t matter whether they actually shared blood with him or he’d simply claimed them as such.

Naturally, the older bassist was a bit skeptical about that, if only ’cuz he’d thought even temporarily breaking up woulda been the wake-up call he’d needed. Since it hadn’t been and had nearly driven him into his own early grave, he couldn’t help but wonder if his younger mate was being serious, or just telling him what he wanted to hear. Granted, said younger mate wasn’t surprised by the look on his face, nor when he told him exactly what was on his mind. This wasn’t the kinda thing he could tell him and expect him to believe without putting his money where his mouth was, which he was more than willing to do. He couldn’t leave Bobby and the kits behind like Nikki’d done, knowing that that they might never recover from such a loss.

While they were enjoying their quiet moment as said kits continued snoozing, the younger bassist was forced to explain everything to him. He hadn’t been told much when his older brother, Matt, called him down in California to tell him that he’d been admitted to the hospital. Then again, at the Time that call was made, said older brother hadn’t exactly had much to go on, ’cuz Dr. Thomas’d been busy trying to actually diagnose him. After that, he hadn’t been able to get in touch with him since he’d been on a flight up to Seattle to actually see him for what coulda been the last Time.

“The long and short of it,” Duff started, an ironic smirk curving one side of his mouth. “My pancreas decided to explode on–or more aptly, in–me.”

“You’re fuckin’ shitting me,” the older bassist breathed, his eyes widening.

_“Mmm mmm,”_ he hummed, shaking his head. “Dr. Thomas swears it was–and prolly still is–swollen to the size of a football, give or take.”

“Jeez, and ya didn’t notice feeling _off_ or anything?” Bobby asked with a wince.

“If I did, I prolly didn’t think much of it,” the younger bassist admitted sheepishly. “I mean, I _was_ drunk and/or high more often than not lately.”

_“Touché,”_ he agreed. “But what made ya actually come to the hospital?”

“Waking up to feeling like somebody’d stabbed me with a broadsword and was twisting it like they were twirling up a bite of sketti,” Duff chuckled. “I swore I was gonna die upstairs in my bed, and if there was one thing I _didn’t_ want, it was to die alone.”

The older bassist couldn’t help cocking a brow at him curiously.

“It was my friend, Andy, who found me,” he explained. “I guess he came over to just hang out again and saw my wallet on the kitchen counter or something. Just as I thought I was gonna End up dying alone, I heard him downstairs and all I could think was that I hoped he came upstairs.”

“’Cuz at least then, ya wouldn’t have to die alone and in agony,” Bobby said, starting to piece things together. “I’m guessing it was Andy who broughtcha here?”

“Yes and no,” the younger bassist answered. “He originally took me straight to Dr. Thomas’ office, and Dr. Thomas insisted that I be brought to the ER, ’cuz his office wasn’t equipped to handle even the level of pain I was in.”

Duff explained how, after being carried into his kithood doctor’s office, he’d been hit in the ass three Times with Demerol–but didn’t get the slightest bit of relief. In the ER, the story wasn’t much different when they first started the Morphine drip, ’cuz he’d a bit of experience with opiates at that point. He knew about the warm-blanket feeling they were supposed to offer a being whacked-out on them, but he’d gotten about as much relief as being punched in the gut.

The ultrasound he’d been given actually made his doctor turn as white as a sheet when he and the ultrasound tech got a good look. It was then that they’d made the discovery about his pancreas, which’d pretty much flooded his abdominal cavity with digestive enzymes that weren’t supposed to be outside that particular organ. Between the organ, itself rupturing and all the burns from the released enzymes–which were pretty much third-degree at that point–it was no Wonder he was in agony. Even Bobby couldn’t blame him for having begged the doctors to just kill him then, especially as he continued with their original treatment plan.

Knowing he was gonna be on dialysis for the rest of his Life once they’d cut out the damaged part of his swollen pancreas woulda been reason enough for the younger bassist to beg for Death. But they’d gotten a surprise when further ultrasounds proved his pancreas to actually be contracting again, the blood coagulating in a very thick, internal scab.

Having decided not to put him through surgery unless absolutely necessary–which it now seemed _not_ to be–Dr. Thomas’d decided to admit him to the intensive care unit. It was decided that they’d just keep monitoring him to see how much his condition improved, and how quickly such a thing happened. Regardless, he was gonna have to get help for his alcoholism, ’cuz he wouldn’t live much longer, if he got discharged and went back home to start drinking all over again. Once again, Duff swore that he was getting clean, even if it meant going cold turkey to do it, ’cuz he’d too much to lose–or rather, leave behind. Besides, his mother’d paid him a visit a couple hours ago, and the order was at least fifteen different kindsa fucked-up, to be quite honest.

“Bobby, Mom’s suffering from Parkinson’s,” he sighed. _“I_ should be taking care of _her_ right now, not the other way around.”

Bobby couldn’t help a gasp since he’d never actually met any of his younger mate’s family. “Sweet Goddess alive.”

“Yeah, my point exactly,” the younger bassist agreed. “Even without you and the kits, I can’t be up and dying–especially before I even hit thirty. It’s supposed to be the kits burying their parents, not the other way around, damn it.”

“You’re still gonna have to prove just how serious ya are to me,” he told him. “I mean, I thought losing us in the form of even a temporary breakup woulda gotten through to ya, but…”

“Yeah, I know that,” Duff chuckled. “I also know that I’ma fuckin’ idiot for letting it go this far instead of getting help like I said I would, too.”

“At least you’re wise enough to admit it, even if you’re otherwise a dumbass,” the older bassist laughed softly.

Duff couldn’t help rolling his eyes, his smile turning into one of genuine Happiness as a couple soft, but utterly cute yawns filled the Air.

“Well, look who decided it was Time to wake up from nap-nap,” he chuckled as he looked down.

_“Ma-ma-ma-ma,”_ the twins babbled sleepily as they reached up to rub their eyes.

“Look who else’s here, too,” Bobby said, getting them to look up at him.

“Eh?” They cocked their heads at him curiously as he unstrapped them.

“Who’s dat?” the older bassist asked, pointing to the bed once they were settled in his lap.

A pair of gasps rang out as soon as Lil Nikki and Corona clapped eyes on the younger bassist. _“Da-da-da-da!”_ they cried happily and in unison.

“Hey there, chu lil boogers,” he chuckled, reaching out to let them grab his fingers.

_“Nuuuu,_ chu can’t sit with Dada right now,” Bobby gently admonished them when they tried to crawl onto the bed with him. “Dada’s gots a really bad owie right now.”

The twins looked confused, then looked up at the only daddy they’d ever known with the most adorable pouts he’d ever seen.

“Daddy’s tummy gots an owie inside it where chu can’t see the owie,” Duff told them, trying to keep it simple. “It _really_ hurts, so it’s best if chu stay in Mama’s lap and just hold mah fingers.”

Lil Nikki and Corona both looked sad, then a determined look swept over the lil boy’s face before he managed to climb onto the bed, anywhore. Unbelievably, he was so careful about snuggling up to his surrogate daddy’s side that they couldn’t help but be surprised. Considering he was normally every bit as wild and rambunctious as his Natural father–whom Bobby’d been starting to think’d gotten Reincarnated in this boy–they were definitely surprised when he was careful to keep his lil hands off the younger bassist’s belly.

Said younger bassist couldn’t help the tears that welled up in his eyes as he snuggled the boy, finally feeling more at Peace than he’d felt in Years. He hadn’t felt like anybody really needed him till he met the older bassist, but that feeling’d disappeared after their breakup. That was actually part of the reason why he’d started drinking even more heavily–feeling as if he’d been abandoned once again and wasn’t needed by anyone.

Bobby was quick to reassure his younger mate that that wasn’t the case at all, that he really _did_ need him to still be around. What he needed as bad as for him to still be around, though, was for him to get sober so they could really and truly be together. Not only that, but so they could possibly add to their lil family in the Future–which he wouldn’t get to enjoy, if he was constantly drunk and/or high. Hearing that that was what his mate truly wanted brought even more tears to his eyes–and it also further hardened his resolve. There was no way he could go back to his old ways, with or without the twins–it was Time he get clean, or he’d never get to experience the few things in Life that he really wanted to.

Once that decision was made and his mind made up, nothing was gonna stop Duff from turning himself around, and that started now. It was no doubt gonna take him a while to actually manage, even after he was discharged from the hospital–whenever that actually happened–but he was determined. The older bassist needed him too much, and the twins didn’t deserve to lose a second father, even though they’d never known the first. Even if it took him the rest of his Life–be it three Days or three Centuries in length–he was finally ready to get better, and not just from a ruptured organ.


	12. Twelve

Duff spent two weeks at Northwest Hospital before he was deemed healthy enough for discharge, a week of that being spent in the ICU. His doctor and even the majority of the remaining staff all seemed surprised by how quickly he was recovering, but he wasn’t very surprised. The only Time his mate left his side was when he left for the Night so the twins’d have somewhere quiet and peaceful to sleep, and that was only outta necessity. Well, the older bassist’d another reason, which was to be able to purge himself and recharge before he drained his Life Force too much and more or less accidentally sacrificed himself.

In being a fairly powerful Empath, Bobby possessed the ability to essentially be an Energetic kitchen sponge, for lack of a better way to put it. When he was holding his younger mate’s hand, he could absorb any negative or otherwise harmful Energy, if he chose to open that particular gateway. However, that Energy needed somewhere else to go later on–hence the purging–and he needed to be able to recharge himself, too.

After the younger bassist’s discharge, he decided on going back to his _vacation_ home on the Shore of Lake Washington for the first week. In being a Witch by blood as much as his mate was, he knew there were certain things in Life that’d to be done, and making Peace with one’s demons was one of them. He felt that there was a personal demon of sorts in that house, considering he’d damn near died in its master bedroom, and he needed to make Peace with it before he could move on. Other than simply admitting he’d a problem with drugs and alcohol, that was the first step in his long-term recovery, and if he didn’t do those things, he knew that any Success he managed wouldn’t last for long.

Lil Nikki and Corona managed to crawl up the stairs behind the man they’d always known as Daddy, determined to be by his side for support. They were even more powerful than their mama’d thought they’d be, but there was a theory on why that was, and it made total sense. Their Natural father’d been trained by the Elves to the point of starting on Elvin parlor spells by the Time he died, so he’d wielded a lot more Power than even the D’Anu and D’Artemis were normally known for wielding.

Keeping them away from Duff as he was making his Peace was gonna be impossible, especially if they were Intent on helping him any way they could.

_“Mrew_ –Da-da,” Corona babbled, whimpering softly as they made it to the master suite.

“Chu _nuuuu_ likey mah bedroom, huh?” he asked, settling on the foot of the bed.

_“Nuuuu_ –bad En’gy,” her twin brother answered as he looked around. He was a lot more like Nikki than they’d first thought, and the late bassist’d been what one’d call a _Death Witch_.

“That’s ’cuz Daddy was in a lotta trouble the last Time I was in this room,” Duff explained, careful about hauling the kits up onto the bed with him as his mate appeared in the bedroom doorway.

“Yikes,” said older bassist winced, his face twisting like he was constipated and trying to shit out a somewhat literal brick. “Yeah, I’m not liking the feeling in this room, either.”

“Scawed,” the lil girl said, but her expression wasn’t twisted into one of Fear. “Hope.”

He looked up at Bobby when she said those things, both noting how her pupils’d dilated so one could just barely see the hazel of her irises. “That’s what I was feeling the last Time I was in here, and for good reason.”

“Damn, these two’re seriously more powerful than I thought, if they’re picking up on that kinda stuff,” he told him, looking a bit surprised. “Kinda makes me wonder just how powerful Nikki _really_ was, ’cuz I don’t think he ever lemme truly feel his Power.”

Before they could even truly speculate on that, Lil Nikki let out a loud gasp, his attention turned to the corner near the bathroom doorway. The lil tyke followed that gasp with a low, threatening growl as he grabbed a fistful of the younger bassist’s shirt as if saying, _No, you’re not taking my daddy away!_ Even his mama seemed surprised by that behavior, ’cuz while he was often protective of his sister when they were at the park–despite being a few minutes younger and a male Fertile–he didn’t normally act like this.

They continued to watch that corner as the boy kept growling, surprised as a Light suddenly Began to start glowing from it. As it slowly brightened, they were forced to shield their eyes with their arms, even though the lil boy still didn’t stop his growling as he did. It was when the Light Began to dim and fade again, thus allowing them to lower their arms, that they got an even bigger surprise.

Leaning up against the wall with his signature devilish smirk, arms crossed over his chest and leather-clad legs crossed at the ankle, was none other than Nikki. Clearly, he hadn’t been Reincarnated in his son as his mate’d started to think, or he wouldn’t have been able to appear like this. What they didn’t get, though, was _why_ he’d chosen to appear to them now–after all, he’d done no such thing in the two and a-half Years since his Death. No doubt he’d a reason for appearing now, but they weren’t quite sure _what_ that reason could be, although they were about to find out.

“Chill out, chu lil booger,” the Spirit chuckled as he pushed away from the wall and straightened to his full height of six-six. “Daddy’s not gonna hurtcha.”

“Chu _nuuuu_ Daddy!” Lil Nikki snapped as he tugged on the youngest bassist’s shirt. “Dis Daddy!”

“Den where’d chu gets those purdy blue eyes of yours, huh?” he asked, a Knowing smirk crossing his face.

Taken aback by that question, the boy wouldn’t have been sure how to answer, even if he’d been older than what he was.

“Exactly,” Nikki said as he approached and knelt down. “Duff doesn’t have blue eyes, but I do.”

His son gasped when he brushed his hair back off his forehead and revealed the blue eyes he was talking about, his daughter letting out a gasp of her own.

“D–Da-da?” they asked, sounding a bit freaked-out.

_“Mmm hmm,”_ the late bassist hummed as he nodded. “We didn’t get to meet like we shoulda once chu were born, ’cuz Daddy was a dummy.”

_“Mrew?”_ Corona looked just as confused as her twin did.

“Daddy took some really bad medicine, and it made me go back to the Home of the Faeries like my grama did,” he sighed. “And believe me, I regret that more than anything since I didn’t get to truly meet chu two, and I worried that Mama’d try to follow me, too.”

_“Mrew!”_ The twins grabbed the hem of Bobby’s shirt and yanked, making him chuckle as he plopped down on the bed next to them. “Mama _nuuuu_ go to Home of Faeries!”

“Him better not, ’cuz him gots too much living left to do,” Nikki said, shooting a stern look at his mate. “’pessally since chu two and Daddy Duff need him now.”

“Don’t worry, love–I’ve no plans of joining ya yet, if only for these two,” the older bassist reassured him with a tender smile. “Even though I still miss ya, if I were gonna do such a thing, I’d have done it before I even started showing with them.”

“I kinda figured,” he chuckled, surprising him with how solid he felt when he gently caressed his cheek.

“Not to be rude or anything, but–why’re ya here, man?” Duff finally asked, making the Cat’s attention turn to him.

“It wasn’t your Time,” the late bassist said matter-of-factly. “Bobby and the twins need ya as much as _you_ need _them,_ and I’ll be damned if I letcha join me too soon.”

Both the living bassists were surprised by that, their jaws actually dropping when he admitted that this wasn’t the first Time he’d paid him a visit. He’d kept himself Shrouded well enough to avoid him figuring out who was with him, but still feel enough of his Energy to know that he wasn’t alone, for months now. He’d been trying to get through to him that his End was coming swiftly, if he didn’t Change his ways, but the giant of an Irishman’d been too stubborn.

When he couldn’t prevent his near-Death experience, Nikki’d summoned every last ounce of Power he’d ever possessed–even in Death–and started Healing him before his friend had ever shown up. He’d to go slowly, or he might risk accidentally killing him by sending his system into shock, but he wasn’t about to let him die and especially not alone.

During his stay in the hospital, he’d continued Healing Duff with that immense Power, which was why he’d surprised his doctor not long after arriving at the ER. It wasn’t some stroke of dumb Luck that his pancreas’d started to contract again, the blood coagulating into a thick internal scab–that was the late bassist’s efforts finally Manifesting in a visible way. He hadn’t done anything about his alcohol and drug withdrawal so he wouldn’t give himself away, save possibly making the drug he’d been put on to help with that part work a lil better than anticipated. That suited them all just fine, though, ’cuz his efforts for the last two weeks’d gotten the youngest bassist discharged a lot sooner than anticipated at first.

Unable to help a couple tears, said blonde couldn’t help but smile at and thank the Spirit still kneeling in the floor before them. If it weren’t for him not wanting to see his mate have to get through the loss of a second mate, it was doubtful he’d be anywhere but in his own early grave. Thanking him for doing such a thing, no matter how Selfless or Selfish his reasoning, wasn’t a very hard thing to manage. Bobby and the twins really _did_ need him, even if no one else did, and he was just grateful to be getting this second chance when he was otherwise slated not to.

“Ya don’t have to thank me, Duff,” Nikki chuckled. “Like I said, I knew they needed ya, and I couldn’t watch Bobby go through that again.”

“Wait, ya actually saw the aftermath of your Death?” the older bassist asked, sounding a bit surprised.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been with ya since ya woke up from that nightmare about me dying,” he answered. “I’ve just kept myself Shrouded so ya wouldn’t get too used to me being around. I never knew when I’d get the opportunity to cross over–and when you’d be Healed enough for me to take advantage of it–but I knew thatcha knowing I was still sticking around wouldn’t help ya Heal.”

Bobby couldn’t help a soft _Mraw_ as he reached up to caress his cheek again.

“Besides, I wanted to be able to see my kittens for at least a lil while, even if they never knew I was here any more than you did,” the late bassist chuckled.

Lil Nikki and Corona let out _Mrews_ of their own as he gently grabbed their hands, surprising them with how solid he felt for appearing kinda transparent.

Looking back up at the youngest bassist, his expression Changed from tender to stern. “I’m not giving away anything, but I know what you’ve been discussing with your attorney since I’ve been hanging around.”

Duff’s eyes widened, but he refused to admit anything.

“Don’t make me have to save your stupid skin again, kid, ’cuz I might not be so nice a second Time–but I wanna see your plans come to fruition as much as _you_ do,” Nikki chuckled.

“Wait, you’re seriously giving your Blessing for that?” he asked, now even more surprised.

“How can I not, given how pure your Intentions are?” the late bassist countered with a snicker, his eyes twinkling with a hint of Mischief.

“Holy–I–” Duff started, unable to actually form any real words.

The older bassist cocked a brow as he _Mrawed_ at him, his tone sounding curious as he wondered just what on Earth they were talking about. His late mate merely smirked at him and mimed zipping his lips, and he knew that trying to get him to spill the Beans wouldn’t do any good. Nikki’d always been like a Lead-lined, triple-sealed vault when he wanted to be, and if he was Intent on doing that now, he knew he’d have better Luck with getting into Fort Knox undetected.

Bobby smiled as he turned his attention back to the twins, who let out sad _Mrews_ when he told them that he needed to go. They didn’t want him to leave since they’d never gotten a chance to meet and spend Time with him, but he was quick to reassure them he wouldn’t be very far away. Just ’cuz he was outta sight didn’t mean he was crossing over just yet–it meant he was recharging so he could Manifest again later.

Reaching up to cup his cheek, the late bassist gave his mate the first kiss he’d given him since the Night Lil Nikki and Corona’d been conceived. He was definitely surprised by how solid he felt now, especially considering that he could feel the same warmth that’d once lulled him to sleep every Night. He couldn’t suppress a happy sigh, the smile on his face as they parted afterward wistful, but still a bit sad since he knew he wouldn’t get that kinda thing very often till he finally crossed over. That was when he turned his sights on Duff once again as he warned him to take care of his family for him, or he’d make the rest of his Life more of a living hell than his band had ever Dreamt of doing.

Chuckling softly, the youngest bassist wrapped an arm around Bobby’s shoulders, the twins both settled between his legs. He promised that there was no way in hell he was giving him a chance to make good on that threat, ’cuz he didn’t wanna be in the same place–watching his family grow older without him. Nikki seemed to accept that response as he nodded, then rose to his feet so he could back into the corner he’d first appeared in. It was in that corner that he started to slowly disappear from sight, but didn’t bother Shrouding himself again so they could still feel his loving, protective Energy.

After making Peace with the demons that essentially haunted the master bedroom of his _vacation_ house, Duff started to work on his plan to get clean and healthy again. Since he’d Healed from that ruptured pancreas a lot sooner than expected, he didn’t necessarily need to just lay around in bed all the Time. He needed to get up and start being active, if only so he wouldn’t develop blood clots and bed sores, both of which’d the potential to kill him in one way or another.

He’d been given a two-week scrip for Librium pills when he was discharged to help get him through the remains of his alcohol withdrawal. Making the scrip last the length of Time that it was supposed to was more than a bit of a challenge, but the younger bassist was determined to do it. Even still, he was fifteen different kindsa shaky from that withdrawal, to the point that he was actually scared to drive his car.

Since he’d shit he needed to do–like grocery shopping and just getting outta the house, in general–he started trying to find other means of getting around. Looking through his garage one afternoon, he found an old Steel Mountain bike he’d forgotten that he even owned, and it was the perfect solution. As long as he wore his helmet and didn’t get hit by a car or break any bones, should he accidentally fall, this option’d be safer than driving, as shaky as he was. In fact, Bobby was all for seeing him take off on said Mountain bike every Morn since he’d effectively moved in with him after his discharge. The older bassist knew damn good and well the exercise he’d get from it’d be good for him, especially with all the Hills in the area.

It took close to another month, but he was eventually able to go with his mate to a sporting goods store, Lil Nikki and Corona in tow. Said mate’d decided to get a Mountain bike of his own since he was generally a pretty active guy, now that he was sober, himself. They also needed what amounted to car seats for said bikes, that way they wouldn’t have to find a babysitter for the twins when they wanted to go riding. Granted, they weren’t sure if such a thing even existed, but it couldn’t hurt to at least look into the possibility before they made up their minds and settled on any given option.

“Welcome to Dick’s Sporting Goods, gentlemen,” a man that appeared about their age said as they walked in, each carrying one of the twins. “My name’s Greg. Anything I can help ya with today?”

“We were thinking about trying to find baby seats to put on Mountain bikes for these two,” Bobby answered, chuckling as he gently bounced his daughter. “We met through our job since we’re in the same industry, and when we found out we both like to ride–well, we figured we might as well start riding together.”

_“Ahhhh,_ I see,” he said, nodding. “What kinda bikes’ve ya got?”

“Uh, not too sure whatcha mean by that,” Duff told him, looking confused.

“Well, different types of child seats’re better for different types of bikes,” the sales associate told them, leading them off to the bike section. “Front-mounted seats’re better for some, while rear-mounted tend to be better for others.”

“I think we’re prolly looking for front-mounted, if we can manage it,” he said.

“All right–well, first and foremost,” Greg said as he turned down an aisle. “Your bike should look something like this.”

Both bassists watched as he pulled a specific bike outta one of the racks, careful not to hit anyone with it.

“Ya should have at least eighteen inches of frame Space with a front-mounted child seat, ’cuz the seat’s gonna take up about ten of those inches,” he told them. “And having a bike that’s gonna have ya more upright instead of leaning forward is better, or your chest’s gonna wind up bumping into the child seat.”

“Well, we’re planning on going with Mountain bikes so we can ride pretty much anywhere, if that makes a difference,” Bobby explained.

“Perfect, ’cuz you’ll be more upright than ya will on a road bike,” Greg said.

Getting them to kneel down with him, he pointed out the difference between a threaded and threadless headset when it came to how the handlebars were attached. Threaded headsets were attached with an external lockout nut, whereas threadless ones were attached with internal bolts that couldn’t be seen. He personally recommended a threadless headset for mounting child seats in the front, ’cuz they generally afforded more Space for the mounting bracket that held the child seat in place.

Since his old Mountain bike didn’t have any such thing, as far as he was aware, and it was all but dead in the Water, Duff decided he was prolly better off getting a new bike today. His mate needed a new bike, too, ’cuz his was down at his house in California–not that it really had the Space for a front-mounted child seat, either. Besides, new bikes’d prolly be safer, even when they didn’t have Lil Nikki and Corona with them, and they were all about safety after his near-Death experience. They didn’t wanna take any chances where unnecessary, if only so they got all their Centuries together that they were supposed to have.

Picking out their new bikes wasn’t very hard for the pair, Greg using the walkie-talkie on his belt to call for another couple associates to help them. Said associates didn’t take long to show up with a pair of carts, which they let the pair of bassists push while they were taking over pushing the bikes that’d been pulled off the display racks for them.

From there, they headed a few aisles over so they could pick out new safety gear for all of them, the twins in particular. Bobby wanted to make sure they’d be safe, especially if they were forced to dump their bikes instead of running head-long into a car or telephone pole. That required lil helmets that were snug on their noggins, but not too small, as well as things like elbow and knee pads–which could be used once they got their own lil bikes when they were a bit older. Next on the list was a bike rack for at least one of their cars, and both bassists agreed that having one that’d fit even a truck or SUV was a good idea. The older bassist was thinking about trading in his car for something with more Space for car seats, as it was, or he wouldn’t have thought that.

“Hopefully, this’ll help the two of ya get started with your rides,” Greg said as they finished up their transaction a short while later.

“Oh, no doubt it will,” the younger bassist chuckled.

“I’ll be right behind ya with the bikes,” one of the sales associates told them as he and his coworker pushed them outta the store for them.

“Thanks, guys,” he chuckled. “Not exactly like we’ve room for them in my car, bike rack or no.”

The pair of younger men laughed as he led them out to his Corvette, his mate letting out a chuckle of his own.

“Time to go back in your car seats,” Duff told the twins, who pouted at him adorably. “Chu _nuuuu_ pouts at me like that–chu gon’ gets busted noggins, if chu _nuuuu_ gets strapped in.”

_“Nuuuu_ borked noggins!” they cried in unison as they flailed slightly.

“Then in chu car seats, chu goes,” the older bassist chuckled as he opened the passenger’s door.

Lil Nikki and Corona didn’t bother trying to fight either of them as they got them strapped in, the sales associates heading over to a nearby store-owned pickup truck. While they were busy loading up toddlers and the safety gear, said associates loaded their new bikes into the bed and got them strapped down. After all, there wasn’t really any need for a box-truck just to deliver two lone bikes since it wasn’t like they were in bulky boxes, even though bulky boxes still woulda fit in the bed.

The younger bassist couldn’t help his excitement as he settled in his driver’s seat, his mate settling to ride shotgun next to him. He couldn’t explain why, but he felt like this was gonna be just one of the few Changes in his Life that was gonna be for the good. Even if his band fell apart like it was starting to seem it was gonna–what with Axl having decided to fire Steven for his heroin addiction–he figured he could die a happy Fox, as long as he’d his family and something productive to do with himself. Mountain biking might not be the most productive thing he could do, but at least it was a step in the right Direction, and that was what mattered to him and his mate both.

As they pulled into the driveway of his _vacation_ house, the sales associate pulling in behind them with their new bikes, even Bobby started to get excited. His younger mate’s excitement was simply infectious, making even the twins giggle and squeal excitedly as they started getting out once they were parked. In fact, they were all so excited that the sales associate couldn’t help but wanna stick around to help them get the child seats mounted so they could head out on their first ride as a family. Both bassists thanked him, the older of the pair taking the kits inside to get their helmets fitted while the younger was preoccupied so they could head out.


	13. Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, y'all– _I'm baaaack!_ LOL!
> 
> No, I haven't completely abandoned this story–I just needed a bit for the ideas to percolate so they'd actually come outta my brain and make an appearance on all our screens in the form of words. That, and I got lost in Duff McKagan's book– _It's So Easy (and Other Lies)_ –before getting lost in a game I'm totally and shamelessly addicted to.
> 
> That being said, I dunno when I'll start on the next chapter–could be today, could be tomorrow or later than that. But enough chit-chat since no one comes here to read _uber_ -long author's notes–on with the story!  
> ~Firefly

It was late-June of 1990 before Duff even thought of trying to go back to the LA area, despite his band still trying to work on their second album. Even his mate hadn’t put much, if any Thought into going back anytime soon, and his band was in the process of finishing up their third album for release. In fact, said album–which’d been entitled _Flesh and Blood_ –was due for release on the twenty-first, so they hadn’t even been in town when it started hitting shelves. They’d still been up on the Shore of Lake Washington, hiding from the World, when they’d gotten the call about having to _pull_ the album to edit the cover, a picture of Rikki’s new tattoo that was Intended to look like a fresh tat with blood dripping down it.

Once they’d gotten back down to Bobby’s house and unpacked all their belongings, the first thing they’d done was get everybody suited up for a ride. The twins loved getting to head out with them, even though they weren’t particularly fond of the seats they were strapped into while they were out. It seemed they loved the minuscule amount of Wind blowing through their equally minuscule hair like a true biker did already. Neither of the bassists coulda been any happier about that, thinking maybe they’d get them on dirt bikes eventually.

Walking back through the front door, though, they’d heard the answering machine beeping before they could even get said portal closed, let alone put Lil Nikki and Corona down. Axl’d called and said he was giving them two hours to answer the phone before he just showed up and started pounding on the door. He’d known they were coming back soon, but he wasn’t exactly sure when since they refused to set a specific date, just in case something went awry at the last second. After all, Seattle was known for a lotta Rainy and Snowy Weather, depending on the Season, which could get a flight cancelled or delayed.

As it stood, it’d already been about an hour and a-half since that message’d gotten left, so they knew it wouldn’t be long before the temperamental ginger showed up. That gave them just enough Time to at least start on dinner, the kits playing with their toys in the adjoining den area they’d thought about setting up as a second living room at first, but was better suited to being a play room.

“It’s open, jerk!” Duff yelled loud enough to be heard outside when he heard the telltale banging on the front door. If he and his mate hadn’t both been trying to finish up dinner prep, a kit hanging off each of their legs, he’d have gone to actually answer the door.

“Don’tcha know you’re supposed to lock your doors, especially with kids in the house?” Axl’s words and accompanying chuckle preceded him into the kitchen.

“Left that one open on purpose, jerk,” the younger bassist laughed. “First thing we did when we got down here was head out on a ride, and by the Time we got back, the kits were starving.”

“That meant it was dinnertime, or we’d be paying royally within an hour,” Bobby chuckled, bending down to haul Corona into his arms. “’Cuz chu boogers’re just as cranky as chu real daddy when chu’s hungee.”

“Wait, ya finally told them?” The ginger seemed surprised since he’d made no bones about wanting to wait till they were old enough to understand before he explained anything to them. “And a ride? You’re nuts for taking them anywhere near motorcycles at this age!”

“Mountain bikes, not motorcycles, ya goof!” Duff told him with another laugh. “Although, hearing the concern’s a good thing since we know it means ya care.”

“And I didn’t tell these two anything, nor did Duff,” the older bassist added.

“Then why bring up you-know-who?” Axl looked every bit as confused as he sounded.

“Nikki gave himself away while we were up in Seattle,” he answered, settling his daughter in her high chair while his mate followed with her twin. “Believe it or not, he was an integral part of Duff even surviving.”

“Wait, what?” he asked, looking even more confused. “Nikki’s dead, so how could he…?”

“Spirits’re capable of a lot more than the Living like to give them credit for,” Bobby explained. “If they wanna do something–whether benevolent or _mal_ evolent–they’re gonna do it, if they’ve enough Energy stored up and otherwise accessible to them.”

“Nikki was with me when my pancreas first ruptured,” his mate said, looking up at Axl after strapping Lil Nikki into his own high chair. “I didn’t know it, ’cuz he kept himself that well-Shrouded–but he was with me, and he saved my Life, man.”

Said ginger looked enthralled as they continued recounting the story of Duff’s homecoming from the hospital to him, but like he found it hard to believe at the same Time. Neither of them were very surprised by that, if only ’cuz most didn’t believe in the Spirit Realm and anything else otherwise deemed _paranormal_ or _supernatural_. They knew they couldn’t make him believe them, if the late bassist chose not to make his presence known, so they didn’t really care if he did or not.

Axl couldn’t help jumping as if someone’d goosed him moments later, his expression turning startled since he was looking at the pair of bassists. He hadn’t seen either of them move, and he knew what both their Energies felt like well enough to know neither’d used his magick against him. With the twins being strapped into their high chairs and not having that kinda Power yet, he wondered who’d just goosed him.

The soft chuckle that sounded behind him made smiles appear on the small family’s faces as the ginger whirled in his seat, red hair flying before settling around his neck and shoulders again. Leaning up against the wall much like he’d been when his son’d practically called him out on his presence up in Seattle, Nikki smirked at him as his somewhat transparent form just chilled out. His eyes were still every bit as blue as they were when he was still alive, but dropped the Glamour he normally kept cast on them so they appeared Jade to anyone who looked at them.

“My ears were burnin’ like somebody poured acid in them,” he laughed, the Sound of his laughter making the twins giggle.

“Holy shit,” Axl breathed, too shocked to remember not to cuss in front of said twins. Since that’d been the first Time he’d slipped up in front of them, though, both younger bassists decided to let it slide this Time.

“Yeah, I’ve been hanging around since I died,” the late bassist told him as he straightened. “I just kept myself Shrouded for a few different reasons.”

“Ya wanted to be sure Bobby’d actually be able to move on and live withoutcha, didn’tcha?” he asked.

“That was my biggest reason at first, yeah,” Nikki admitted, nodding. “After that, I just didn’t wanna interfere with the Life he’s been building unless something drastic happened.”

“And apparently Duff exploding an organ was drastic enough,” the ginger chuckled.

“Well, yeah,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I mean, c’mon–he’d have died, if I hadn’t used my Power to start repairing as much damage as I could even before his childhood bestie found him. If not for that, he’d have succumbed to either blood loss or those digestive juices pretty much scalding the rest of his innards–take your pick.”

Axl couldn’t help a wince at the mere Thought as he shot a glance at the blonde, who smiled at him and shrugged.

“Not like I _meant_ for it to get to that point, but yeah–I’m damned grateful he stepped in when he did, whether he and I ever liked each other before his Death or not,” Duff told him. “Like he said about Bobby when he revealed himself in Seattle, I’ve too much living left to do.”

“Ya got that right,” the late bassist chuckled, although there was a hint of a stern tone to his voice. “Ya all need each other right now, and like I said then, I know about your surprise that you’re trying to pull together.”

Naturally, the ginger was curiously confused–just like his mate–and couldn’t resist asking what the hell the late bassist was talking about. He simply mimed zipping his lips, locking them, and throwing away a key, refusing to explain what the Spirit’d meant. That surprise was for him and him, alone to know till the Time came for him to reveal it to the one it was meant for, and he wasn’t giving up his Secrets that easily.

Knowing how the younger, blonde bassist could be, Axl wisely chose to back off rather than keep pestering him since he knew damn good and well he wouldn’t tell. Whatever his surprise was gonna be, it was no doubt gonna be big and over-the-top, which’d prolly be one of the best things he could do. And if he were honest with at least himself, he suspected that his friend was either gonna finally try getting into Bobby’s britches, or pop the question. Even though they couldn’t legally wed since gay marriage was illegal–even in California–he knew they’d their ways of getting around such a thing, if they really wanted to.

It wasn’t long before the small family finished their dinner and had to put off any further serious talk so they could get their mess cleaned up and the twins ready for bed. Lil Nikki and Corona both were yawning adorably already, which meant giving them a warm bath’d have them knocked out in no Time. They didn’t usually fight sleep unless they were sick, and like their Natural father, they didn’t actually get sick very often. In fact, they’d only come down with a cold as infants ’cuz of how young they’d been, and it’d been only the one Time.

Once the twins were in bed, Duff Returned to the living room with his mate, the pair settling on the couch while Axl took one of the arm chairs. By this point, Nikki’d disappeared again, but they could still feel his lingering presence, even though they couldn’t see him anymore. He often hung around like that, now that they knew he hadn’t crossed over, if only to observe the older bassist and their kits the only way he could now. Sensing that loving, protective Energy he radiated was quite the Comfort–especially to Bobby–which was why they hadn’t tried to drive him off. Course, as powerful as he seemed to be–even in Death–they doubted there’d ever be enough Sage and Cedar on the Planet to effectively Banish him.

“So, now that you’re back in town,” the ginger started, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees. “Dare I ask about getting back into the studio?”

“Well, you’re not gonna like my answer to that,” Duff told him. “’Cuz trust me when I say it’s not what you’re gonna wanna hear.”

His friend simply cocked a brow at him, his own blue eyes twinkling curiously.

“That pancreatitis–it opened me up to a lotta different things, man,” the younger bassist sighed. “Most importantly, just how fast Life can pass ya by, if you’re not careful.”

Axl could already tell he was right about his answer not being what he wanted to hear, if only judging by his tone.

“That being said…I’m quitting the band,” he said, his hazel eyes hardening with resolve.

“What!?” The ginger’s jaw dropped as he practically squawked.

“Axl, just hear me out,” Duff practically begged him as he shoved his hair outta his face. “I’ve missed out on too much with Bobby and the kits between touring and spending most of my Time at home drunk. I nearly killed myself–albeit accidentally–’cuz I took his wanting a break from me the wrong way and chose to try drinking away my sorrows instead of getting help like he was trying to get me to.”

The older bassist simply kept his mouth shut, but still laced their fingers together and gave his hand a gentle, but supportive squeeze.

“If not for Nikki stepping in like he did, I wouldn’t be here to even say this right now,” he continued. “I’d be on the other side _with_ him, doomed to just watching everybody else move on without me. Ya think I want that for myself, or that _he_ wants it for me since that’s pretty much his living nightmare now?”

“Well, no,” Axl admitted grudgingly. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve to quit the band we’ve all worked so hard on, either!”

“True, but who ever said I wouldn’t eventually rejoin, if and when the Time’s right?” the younger bassist asked. “There might come a Day where I decide I’m ready to get back to it, but for right now, this is what’s best for me and my family.”

His friend couldn’t really argue with that, no matter how much he wanted to. “Just promise me one thing, if you’re really that serious about this,” he told him.

“Depends on what it is, ’cuz I’m not making a promise I know I won’t be able to keep,” Duff responded.

“Promise me that, even as a former band member, you’re not gonna let any of our friendships go down the shitter, man,” the ginger said.

“Now that, I can promise,” he chuckled. “The only way my friendship with even Steven’ll go down the shitter’s if I’m the only one putting any effort into trying to keep it alive.”

The trio of musicians hung out for a couple more hours after that promise was made, even Bobby content to just chill out and relax. He refused to admit in front of the vocalist what he really wanted tonight, which was put on hold due to said vocalist’s presence. But once he was gone and they were alone, the twins in bed since they’d slept through the Night almost from the Time they were born–oh, all bets were off then.

After Axl’d departed, saying that he was calling a band meeting within the next couple Days to officially announce their bassist’s decision to quit, he finally looked up at said younger bassist. Three inches separating their flat-footed height didn’t really seem like a lot, and in all actuality, it really wasn’t that much. But when he was looking up into those hazel eyes–well, it felt like there was a lot more than three inches separating them, more like the six that’d separated him and his late mate. It was a wonderful contrast that he loved, and he couldn’t help a soft, contented sigh as he kept his arms wrapped around the man in front of him.

Duff couldn’t help a soft, contented sigh of his own as he Returned the hug given to him, tilting his head slightly so he could rest his cheek against his head. While the older bassist bitched and griped about it all the Time, he loved the wavy mass that was his nipple-length hair. Whether it was black like it’d been a few short Years ago or its Natural brown, now that he’d quit dyeing it, it was beautiful and soft. He could run his fingers through it and never get sick of the silky texture that always greeted them when he did that.

While it sounded a bit muffled from his face being pressed against the taller Zorro’s throat, a soft _mraw_ met both their ears. Bobby couldn’t help his tail starting to twitch, then wag slightly as he felt those fingers tangle in his hair, careful not to pull it as he searched for his ear. The younger bassist was always so gentle with him, as if he thought of him like a china doll that he’d break just by breathing on him. It was that behavior that’d made him finally make up him mind on what he wanted, and he took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He let his hands start roaming much like they used to with Nikki before his Death, mapping out every square inch of his mate’s body, learning his planes and angles.

_“Mmmm,”_ he hummed, unable to help squirming slightly. “I’m not sure if you’re trying to tickle me, or make me horny.”

“Can’t it be a lil of both?” the older bassist chuckled, hoping he didn’t sound too nervous.

“I’m not responsible for your injuries, if ya tickle me,” Duff warned him, pulling back just enough to look down at him with a smirk. “’Cuz I tend to get kinda violent when folks make the mistake of tickling me.”

“Duly noted,” he laughed, letting his hands roam up his back again. “But honestly, I’m not trying to tickle ya–if that happens, it’s a complete accident.”

“Oh, really?” the younger bassist asked, cocking his brow at him. “So, you’re trying to make me horny, huh?”

Bobby couldn’t find his voice, but the look on his face told him all he needed to know.

“Not like you’ve to do anything to make me what I already am,” he told him, laughing softly.

“Coulda fooled me,” the older bassist shot back with a smirk of his own.

“I’ve some damn good Self-Control when I wanna,” Duff snickered. “Bite me at your own peril and see how quick that Self-Control flies right out the window, though.”

“You’re starting to sound more and more like Nikki,” he laughed. “And I don’t mean that as in me being too stuck in the Past to let him go.”

The younger bassist chuckled, but cocked a brow again.

“Biting used to wind him up the same way,” Bobby explained with a grin. “I guess it’s a Neko _and_ Zorro thing, ’cuz just nipping at his fingertip’d drive him nuts, as long as he wasn’t smacked outta his gourd.”

“Well, you’ve gotten your fair warning,” he told him. “’Cuz I can’t even remember the last Time I got laid before that pancreatitis, so if ya dare to awaken the Kraken–”

“I better be a good captain and be willing to go down with my ship,” the older bassist cut him off with a grin. “Good thing I’m definitely a good captain, then, isn’t it?”

Duff couldn’t help a growl, knowing damn good and well his eyes shifted to look like a Fox’s as his mate’s scent started getting to him.

“Maybe we oughta take this upstairs,” he suggested coyly. “’Cuz I dunno ’bout you, but the counter and kitchen table aren’t really my favorite placesta go at it.”

Letting out a growl that was unmistakable, the younger bassist swept him up off his feet and cradled him to his chest. Even as he ducked his head just enough to give him a sweet, but still searing kiss, he turned and headed for the foyer so he could mount the stairs. Bobby couldn’t help a soft moan as he eagerly parted his lips before he could even lick the seam in a Silent plea for entry, his arms winding around his neck as he carried him like a child.

He couldn’t remember the last Time he’d gotten laid, either–prolly the Night the twins were conceived, if he’d felt like thinking about it. Ever since then, he’d been too depressed and/or busy raising said kits–and that wasn’t including touring or being cooped up in a recording studio–to bother with trying to find a temporary lover. Besides, in knowing that he’d a second mate, he didn’t really want anyone else besides that mate–it just felt wrong to think of anyone but Duff like that. While he knew his mate’d be understanding and encourage him to take care of his needs rather than deny them, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not after what he’d shared with the late bassist, knowing the difference between simply fuckin’ and actually making Love now.

In the master bedroom, the younger bassist was gentle about laying him down on his bed, even though the look on his face screamed that he wanted hot and wild. Bobby couldn’t have been more grateful for him reining in his Wild side, though, ’cuz he wanted this to be much like his first Time with Nikki. He might not get to pop his cherry since it’d already been popped, but that didn’t mean they’d to skip over the Romance and just go buck-wild right outta the starting gate. There’d be plenty of Time for that later on down the road, and he couldn’t help the smile on his face as he watched him close and lock the door so their Night could get underway.


	14. Fourteen

Turning back to the bed after closing and locking the bedroom door, Duff couldn’t help the adoring, yet highly-aroused look he pinned on his mate. He’d known they were mates ever since the Day of Nikki’s funeral almost three Years ago, but never once’d he so much as tried to kiss him during that Time. In all Honesty, he hadn’t even tried to kiss his cheek, let alone _actually_ kiss him–he’d been too terrified of fuckin’ things up by trying to push him too hard, too fast. After such a loss, the poor guy’d needed Time to grieve properly–no matter what his chosen manner of grieving _was_ –then to Heal, and he’d wanted to afford him that much.

But now, as he watched Bobby prop himself up on his elbows and use one foot to kinda, sorta kick himself back toward the headboard, he wasn’t fuckin’ around. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d told him downstairs that he couldn’t remember the last Time he’d gotten laid, and he wasn’t too sure whether that was ’cuz it’d simply been so long, or if he’d just been too drunk to remember.

Judging by the adoring, yet aroused look in the older bassist’s own eyes, he wasn’t fuckin’ around right now, either. There was no telling when he’d last gotten laid–no doubt at some point before Nikki’d died–so he was prolly feeling the sexual charge in the Air just as bad. Honestly, he mighta even been feeling it more, but then again, he also wasn’t on the verge of going into a hellacious heat, either. Beating his own meat’d just barely staved off that particular phenomenon, but it was high Time he got far more than that again.

_“Mmmm,”_ the younger bassist hummed as he made his way to the foot of the bed, then crawled onto it like the top of the mattress was a foot lower. “Absolutely gorgeous, all spread out like that.”

“Think so, _hmm?”_ Bobby chuckled, his knees seeming to spread more for him instinctively. Glancing down, he saw that the normally-flaccid bulge hidden by his zipper’d definitely grown bigger, but even he was smart enough to know he wasn’t completely hard yet.

“I don’t think so–I _know_ so,” he told him. “And I’m sure you’re gonna get even more beautiful once you’re completely splayed out, hair a total mess and a thin sheen of sweat coating your flesh.”

_“Oooh,”_ the older bassist moaned, his crotch twitching with just the Thought. “Gods, I want all that and more. It’s been too long since I got anything but my right hand–feels like an Eternity, even though it hasn’t even been three Years.”

“That so?” Duff asked, a chuckle coloring his voice. “Kept up with how long it’s been since ya got laid that well, huh?”

“Last Time was the Night Lil Nikki and Corona were conceived,” he admitted, confirming his suspicions.

_“Mmmm,_ then we’re gonna have to do something about that,” the younger bassist told him. “We can’t be having any horny, needy mama Fertiles in the house unless they’re in heat for the month.”

“And it’s a good thing that’s already happened this month,” Bobby laughed as he crawled over him. “’Cuz while I’m not saying I never want kits with ya, I don’t want anymore right now–those two’re a big enough handful as it is.”

He couldn’t help a laugh as he settled between his mate’s spread thighs, his hips nestling so that it felt as if they were made for one another. Then again, considering how being mated worked in the first place, they more or less _were_ made for each other, and it’d been written in the Stars long before either of their Births. But even as he ducked his head to catch his lips in a sweet, but heated kiss, even he’d to admit that he’d a point about the twins being a handful and a-half, at the very least.

The older bassist moaned into the kiss, his arms reaching up to wrap around his younger mate’s neck and hold him still. He’d wanted nothing more than for Duff to kiss–and even fuck–him senseless before, but he just hadn’t felt ready to take that step after Nikki’s Death. Now that he’d plenty of Time to Heal and nearly lost another mate without getting to experience this shit again–well, he wasn’t letting that happen, to say the least.

It didn’t take long for clothesta start coming off and taking flight in all Directions, neither of them noticing when both their boxers wound up hanging from the ceiling fan. Since it was on low, the garments merely hung from the blades they’d landed on, spinning in leisurely Circles that woulda been dizzying, if they’d even noticed instead of flying across the room. As soon as their flesh’d been bared, hands started roaming, learning each others’ planes and angles even more than the brunette’d been trying to do downstairs. There was a difference between the sensation of cloth hindering them and the close Intimacy of bare flesh, a difference he knew all too well from his few short Years with the late bassist.

Duff couldn’t help a soft growl, although it wasn’t nearly as deep as he’d always thought it shoulda been, no matter the context of his growl. He’d a fairly high voice for a man, which’d always struck him as kinda weird since he was a Dom and thought his voice shoulda sounded more like his mate’s. But that was one of their quirks that made them unique–he was a high-voiced Dom while his mate was a deeply-pitched Fertile, so they Balanced each other out perfectly. Even still, he reveled in the Sounds his mate was making beneath him as he caressed every square inch that he could reach without crushing him or anything.

Soft moans and mewls drifted up to his ears as he learned his mate’s body, and therefore each and every hot spot he possessed. Bobby hadn’t felt another’s touch in so long that it was almost like he’d fibromyalgia or something, ’cuz just the slightest touch’d him arching his entire spine. He couldn’t tell if he was trying to get away, or trying to get more, but that was just part of the fun of it all for both of them. Then again, he couldn’t help being so sensitive–he’d always had a higher sensitivity than most, prolly due to being a Fertile, and the longer he went without any action, the more sensitive he got. Course, when that part was factored in, he couldn’t say it was an altogether bad thing since it always made his orgasms–male and female alike–that much stronger and more pleasurable for him.

_“Ohhhh, Goddess,”_ the older bassist moaned as he kissed, licked, nipped, and sucked his way down his torso.

“Liking that, huh?” Duff chuckled, a sultry note coloring his voice as he glanced up at him.

“Goddess, I’m loving _and_ hating it,” he laughed, unable to help jumping as he felt those full lips kiss the crease of his hip joint. “Fuck!”

The younger bassist’s laugh was muffled against his flesh as his tongue traced a gentle, yet somehow firm line up that crease, purposely avoiding his crotch.

“For the Love of–” Bobby whimpered, his hips arching up toward his face.

“Uh, uh, uh,” he gently admonished him, using his forearms to pin his pelvis to the mattress. “None of that, now–you’ll get whatcha want, baby.”

The older bassist whined, sounding somewhat indignant as he practically begged.

“Trust me when I say you’ll get whatcha want and then some,” Duff promised as he grinned at him. “To steal an Aerosmith lyric for a minute– _When it comesta makin’ Love, I ain’t no hype, ’cuz I practice on a Peach most every Night!”_

He couldn’t help bursting into laughter at that, both for his choice in which lyric to steal and ’cuz it brought back a memory of Nikki once saying much the same thing to him.

The younger bassist ducked his head again, that gorgeous blonde hair hiding his face again as he went back to utterly tormenting him. He could damn near get off just from hearing the mewls, gasps, cries, and muffled shrieks once Bobby’d grabbed a pillow to smother himself with, alone. Never in his Life’d he heard such beautiful Sounds before, but then again, he’d also never been able to go at it with his mate. He’d no doubt that no woman–or any other man, for that matter–would ever be able to draw the same kinda reaction outta him, if they weren’t his own second mate.

Duff wasn’t too sure he wanted to try sucking him off, but then again, he’d never really thought of himself as even bisexual in the Past. Maybe Returning such a favor, were it ever paid to him in the first place, was something they could work up to, but he figured it was prolly better to stick with the tried-and-true for now. Besides, he already knew that he loved snacking on pussy, and he doubted it’d be much different now than before.

He’d to be a bit more gentle as he used a thumb to lift the older bassist’s sac, his balls resting in the curve between his thumb and forefinger as he held them outta his way. Laying in wait like a Hidden Treasure was the one opening he sought, already dripping as it practically cried for him and his touch. The older bassist gasped sharply as he felt him nuzzle the sensitive spot right between the back side of his sac and his feminine opening, unable to bite back a scream as he felt his tongue against him moments later. While he hadn’t doubted his words when he swore up and down that he was no hype in the bedroom, he hadn’t expected him to be quite this good with his tongue.

Bobby couldn’t help several more consecutive screams, his pillow almost flattened against his face as he tried his damnedest to buck up against his face. The younger bassist laughed against him, the Sound muffled and teasing as it vibrated against his most sensitive places, as he continued pinning his hips down. It was then that his tongue dipped in almost like a hummingbird at a feeder, gently lapping as he explored like a curious kit before it stiffened and he really went to town on him.

_“Holy fuckin’ shit!”_ he screamed into the pillow he still held over his face.

_“Mmm,”_ Duff hummed, that Sound reverberating through the slight folds he had. He’d discovered that while his mate possessed inner lips, he didn’t possess _outer_ lips, which was certainly a Curiosity for him.

“Sweet Goddess, don’t stop!” the older bassist begged after lifting his pillow just enough to be heard clearly. “I’ll kick your head clean across the room, if ya do!”

“Can’t be doing that, now,” he chuckled. “I won’t be able to do this again, if ya kick my head off, baby.”

“Then get back to it!” Bobby demanded, wiggling and squirming almost like the kits when they were hyper.

“Your Wish’s my command,” the younger bassist promised with a grin before diving back in.

_“Nyah-ha-ahhhh!”_ he wailed, his pillow now crushed against his face again. He could feel a familiar tightening heat in his lower belly that spread to his kitty and balls both, and he knew what that meant.

_“Mmmm,”_ Duff hummed, growling as he pulled his tongue out to lap and nip at those inner lips before shoving it back in–and straight into his G-spot.

The older bassist suddenly came undone with a hoarse scream of pleasure, his legs tense from hips to ankles as his knees locked around his younger mate’s head. Even if he’d wanted to, there was no escape for the blonde as he held him still the only way he could at the moment, so it was a good thing he didn’t wanna move. He was perfectly content to help him ride out the pleasure he’d no doubt was sending Stars flying and dancing across his vision under that pillow.

Only when Bobby finally relaxed what seemed like hours later, his legs dropping open so that his knees nearly lay against the mattress, did he finally lift his head again. The younger bassist watched with a satisfied, but still aroused grin as his chest and belly heaved, his breaths coming in short, gasping pants. Clearly, he’d needed such an orgasm prolly more than he, himself realized, and he was more than happy to give it to him.

Crawling up the bed so he was settled between his thighs again, Duff planted many small, lingering kisses over his flesh as he made his way up. He couldn’t help a gentle smile at every shiver and sigh he was Graced with before he was settled, easy able to capture his mate’s lips with his own. Said mate couldn’t help yet another sigh, which quickly turned into a moan as he felt his own arousal against him, which made him twitch as he started to harden again already.

“Well, _someone’s_ just raring and ready to go, huh?” he chuckled, pushing himself up just enough to look down at him.

“I can’t help it,” Bobby said, his face turning a Light, but becoming shade of pink. “Not like I’ve gotten laid recently, and I think ya know that.”

“Oh, too well I know it,” the younger bassist laughed. “’Cuz the same’s true for me, too, if you’ll recall.”

“Then what’re ya waiting for?” he asked, grinning up at him.

“You’re sure this is whatcha want, though?” Duff countered, cocking a brow at him. “I mean, I know you’ve already had your cherry popped, so it’s a lil different–but once we get started, there’s no going back.”

“Duff, I wouldn’t be practically begging, if I _didn’t_ want it,” the older bassist assured him. “I might be a more submissive guy than most since I’ma Fertile, but I don’t beg for shit unless I really want it.”

_“Mmm,”_ he hummed, ducking his head to kiss him again. He couldn’t stand simply pressing against him without any friction anymore, which made him gently roll his hips against him.

_“Ohhhh,”_ Bobby moaned, wrapping his limbs around him to draw him even closer than he already was.

The younger bassist kept their lips all but glued together as he ground his hips against him, reveling in being able to feel him grow as his arousal heightened again. He’d never felt anything but a kitty growing wetter as he ground against its owner’s cleft, so this was a new experience for him. It wasn’t a bad experience by any means, even if it felt a bit on the weird side simply ’cuz he wasn’t used to it, and he couldn’t get enough.

On the flip side, the older bassist wasn’t quite as used to these sensations as he used to be, but they were still relatively familiar to him. He reveled in feeling Duff’s arousal pressing against him, said mate careful not to grind against him too hard so he wouldn’t hurt him. Even still, he tightened the grip his limbs had on him and pulled him closer, squirming enough to angle his hips a bit differently. The soft gasps that rang out melded together as much as their shared body heat when he felt his mate’s tip lodge against his feminine opening, his lil head slowly sinking into him.

A soft groan rang out as he paused for a moment, lifting his head to look down at the brunette splayed out beneath him almost like a sexual sacrifice. Bobby whimpered pleadingly as he bucked up against him, that slight action forcing him in deeper as his limbs somehow tightened even further. His head fell back against the pillow he’d since put back underneath it, exposing his throat and giving his younger mate access to the hot spot just below his jaw.

Feeling that moist warmth around his length, practically sucking on him as it seemingly pulled him in deeper at the same Time he pushed in, drew yet another groan from the younger bassist. He’d to pause once he felt himself bottom out for a few deep breaths, and it wasn’t just for his mate’s sake why he did it. It’d been so long since he’d gotten laid, he Feared the slightest movement’d set him off, and he hadn’t suffered _that_ particular phenomenon since he was a teenager. Course, it’d be understandable if he blew his load too soon, even though he fully Intended to avoid that at all costs, if he could. Besides, pausing to give himself a moment served another good purpose since it allowed his mate a few moments to adjust to his size.

“Ya ready, baby?” Duff asked, finally lifting his head to look down at him once he felt like he’d regained enough Control over himself.

_“Ohhhh, Goddess,”_ the older bassist whimpered, squirming under him, which just made him twitch and jerk within his depths. “Fuck, I need this!”

“So do I,” he groaned, gently pulling his hips back. “Gods, ya feel so good–so warm and wet around me.”

Bobby couldn’t do anything but mewl as he felt him push back in, his girth allowing him to hit his G-spot almost immediately.

_“Ahhhh,_ so I found it already, huh?” the younger bassist chuckled, grinning as he repeated his movements.

“Oh, Goddess, yes!” he cried, throwing his head back into the pillow again. “Fuck, do that again!”

Duff couldn’t help a slightly harder laugh as he did as his mate demanded, angling his hips slightly so he could hit that sensitive spot dead-on. His only Hope was that hitting it wouldn’t make the older bassist clamp down on him so much that he made him cum too soon. Course, he supposed that if that happened, he’d just force himself to keep going till he was able to get it completely back up–which shouldn’t be that big a problem for him, as horny as he was.

Thankfully, Bobby was so much hornier since it’d been even longer since the last Time that he got laid, he was even quicker to cum again than he’d worried he’d be. A scream of unadulterated pleasure was quickly muffled by the blonde’s lips as he captured his in a searing kiss. His eyes were rolled so far back into his head that the even the bottom edge of the irises couldn’t be seen as he rode out his pleasure, his heart pounding a pink tattoo against his ribs. But that was a good thing, ’cuz it let his mate know that he really was enjoying his ministrations, that he wasn’t just faking his reactionsta placate him. In fact, the younger bassist’d never seen anyone who found themselves in his bed react quite like this, and he took the utmost pleasure in it.

After letting him ride out his pleasure a bit, said younger bassist started to pick up his pace again since he’d slowed down the second he exploded. Duff reveled in how he let out an even higher-pitched mewl than he’d let out before, gooseflesh breaking out across his limbs and torso, a grin breaking out across his face as he watched his ever-Changing expressions.

It didn’t take long before his mate was just as wound up as he’d been a few short minutes ago, his face flushed with desire. Course, it wasn’t just his face that was flushed with that desire–his entire body, even the parts he couldn’t readily see, were just as flush. He could feel Bobby’s heat radiating from his flushed flesh as his third orgasm built as easily as he could feel the sticky sensation of his cum practically gluing them together. He could feel even more of that heat engulfing him as his quivering channel clamped down around him, his limbs once again tightening their grip. Even feeling his heels digging into the small of his back didn’t hurt in the slightest–that sensation just spurred him on even more. The younger bassist was hell-bound and determined to get him off again, knowing he might not hold out beyond that this Time.

With another sharp gasp, the older bassist clung to his mate as he felt like he was tumbling End-over-End, the pleasure washing over him in Waves again. Duff couldn’t help letting out a cry of his own as he joined him, allowing that same pleasure to wash over him, as well. That pulsing around his length seemed to draw out his orgasm as he practically milked him like a Bull for all he was worth, and he loved it. But at the same Time, feeling his younger mate’s throbbing within him drew out the brunette’s orgasm, his staccato cries finally dying into mewls before he simply went limp and panted harshly.

_“Mmmm,_ fuck me,” the younger bassist sighed, dropping his weight so they were pressed together without crushing him.

“I think…I just did,” Bobby said, practically giggling like a child.

“Oh, Goddess fuck,” he groaned, his giggling making him twitch and clamp down around him repeatedly.

_“Mmmm,”_ the older bassist hummed, content to let him stay right where he was atop him.

“I think it’s Time we clean up a bit,” Duff finally told him, pushing himself up once he softened enough to slip out.

“Or we can just stay right where we’re at,” he retorted with a sleepy grin. “Too tired and bonelessta move.”

“Ya know, on second Thought, that _does_ sound like a good idea,” the younger bassist laughed softly, moving to settle beside him.

_“Mraw.”_ Bobby snuggled against his younger mate, an elated smile curving his lips. _“Ti amo molto, mia Ambra Volpe_ – _così tanto.”_

“I love you, too, sweetheart–just as much,” he whispered as he turned off their bedside lamp. The slight language barrier posed no problem for him, and he smiled as they fell asleep in each others’ arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to anyone who can name the Aerosmith song I hinted at, as well as tell me what Year it _really_ came out since its release definitely _wasn't_ in 1990!  
> ~Firefly


	15. Fifteen

Bobby was the first of the mated couple to wake the next Morn, a beyond-content smile curving his lips as he reveled in feeling his younger mate against him. He hadn’t gotten to feel such a thing since before his late mate’s passing, ’cuz there was a major difference between nekkid cuddles and post-sex cuddles. And not only that, but there was even a difference that came after sex and those that came after true lovemaking, at that.

The only thing that made him finally squirm so he could push himself upright was the fact that he’d to piss pretty badly. He wouldn’t say that he’d to piss as badly as when he was still pregnant or anything like that, but badly enough that there was no going back to sleep for him. Still, he tried not to wake the blonde who’d made such sweet Love to him and was still sleeping peacefully in his bed. Just ’cuz he’d woken up and now had to _get_ up didn’t mean his younger mate needed to just yet, if he could help it. It’d still prolly be a lil bit before either of the twins woke for the Morn, if they kept to their typical schedule like they usually did.

However, Duff was every bit as aware of the older bassist’s movements as Nikki’d been before his Death–when he was actually sober, that is. Despite trying not to wake him, he’d been quick to start and let out a snort as his eyes flew open, almost immediately locking on him. Said blonde was quick to reach out and try to pull him back against his chest again, an adorable pout Gracing his face when he turned to look down at him with a soft chuckle.

“Lemme up, or you’re gonna be my new potty,” he playfully threatened.

_“Mmmm,_ so that’s why you’re already up,” the younger bassist said, covering his mouth to muffle a yawn seconds later.

“Well, that wasn’t why I originally woke up,” Bobby chuckled. “I’ve always been the early-riser of Poison, even _before_ I wound up being a mama.”

_“Mmmm,”_ he hummed again, already starting to drift off again.

The older bassist couldn’t help another chuckle as he managed to get outta bed this Time, enjoying the boyish look to his features that he’d loved about his late mate, too.

“Get your gorgeous tush back in here when you’re done,” Duff told him. “I’m not ready to get up, and it’s cold withoutcha here next to me.”

“It’s freakin’ June!” he argued through a crack in the bathroom door. “It’s fuckin’ hot in here to me!”

“You’re the insane one,” the younger bassist chuckled. “’Cuz I wouldn’t have gooseflesh, if it weren’t cold.”

“Unless you’re horny and just not wanting to admit it,” Bobby shot back as he finished up the business at hand.

His younger mate made a noise that pretty much went along with thumbing his nose at him, which made him laugh again. As he stepped back into the bathroom once he’d washed his hands, he couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face as he saw him peep out from where he’d buried his face in his pillow. Now he looked even more boyish than he’d looked before, and he couldn’t help feeling like his heart swelled to five Times its normal size within his chest.

Duff couldn’t help a chuckle and all but doing a happy dance, despite having not gotten up for the Morn, as his mate finally decided to join him back in bed. Whether he’d been called out on it or not, he wouldn’t deny that he was still horny, even with their slightly wild Night. After all, it’d been an insanely long Time since his last round between the sheets before then, and no other romp in his Life’d ever been so satisfying.

The older bassist couldn’t help a gasp, which was quickly followed by a soft laugh, as he felt his mate twitch against him almost as soon as he’d snuggled up to him again. Course, much like said blonde, Bobby couldn’t deny that he was still so horny, it was almost like he was having a second heat this month. While he’d known true lovemaking with his late mate, it’d been long enough for just about anyone to forget that feeling. And even if it hadn’t been, just about any touch woulda sent him hurtling into the stratosphere like he was a rocket launched from Kennedy Space Center. But whether he felt like he’d ever get enough or not, their fun was short-lived as they were essentially called into duty for the Day.

A soft _Mrew_ from outside their door that preceded the doorknob rattling alerted them to at least one of the twins being awake now. While both woulda liked to be able to pretend they were still asleep so they could squeeze another romp in, they couldn’t bring themselvesta ignore two helpless toddlers. Granted, neither were expecting the door to suddenly fly open, said toddlers giggling as they toddled in and started making grabs for their covers. Only moments later, they’d both managed to haul themselves up onto the foot of the bed, broad but sleepy smiles on their faces as they quickly crawled up closer to their heads.

“Chu boogers,” Bobby laughed as his daughter pounced on him. “Haow chu gets Mama’s door open? It was locked!”

“Magick!” she giggled, planting her rump on his lower chest.

“’Cuz chu’s lookin’ for noms, right?” the younger bassist chuckled, letting out an _Oof!_ as her brother flopped on his chest.

“Noms–want noms!” her brother whined.

“Then chu gosta gets off Mama and Daddy,” the older bassist said. “Can’t make none of us noms with chu laying on us.”

“Noms!” Lil Nikki and Corona chorused with a giggle.

“I’ll get these two changed and dressed,” Duff told him, rolling over enough to give him a quick kiss.

“I can do it since I’ve already taken my Morn potty break,” the older bassist gently argued, grinning when his son sat up and bounced in just the right spot to make him groan.

“Okay, yeah–maybe ya oughta be the one to do that,” he agreed. “Go on, chu punks–Daddy gosta pee.”

“We’ll meetcha downstairs once you’re done,” Bobby said, chuckling as he hefted both kits up to head off to their nursery.

“Sounds like a plan, baby,” the younger bassist called behind him, flipping the covers off so he could head to the bathroom.

Listening to the kits’ continued giggles as he headed into the master bathroom, he couldn’t help but feel a lil nervous. He’d been thinking long and hard about something Life-Changing–and not just for himself–but it’d taken a lotta planning and Soul-searching. Now that Nikki’d called him out on what he’d been planning, he wasn’t sure he could wait till when he’d originally planned to.

Deciding that the twins’ birthday was simply too far away for his liking, even though it was in only a couple months’ Time, Duff took a deep breath as he turned to wash his hands. Once he’d gotten dressed for the Day, he Intended to grab what he needed before heading downstairs, so he knew it was gonna take him a minute longer than his mate was prolly expecting. Course, said mate certainly wouldn’t be expecting what he’d in store for him when he _did_ get downstairs, that much was for sure.

The younger bassist was soon all but tripping down the stairs, his tail actually still for once as he turned to head into the kitchen. Bobby’d already gotten the twins settled in their high chairs, both of them placated with a small bowl of Fruit Loops as he worked on a real breakfast. The thing that mattered was that his back was turned when he first walked in, which gave him Time to lay the papers he’d been carrying on the counter before moving to help him. He wanted to see how long it took him to notice them, ’cuz he was almost anxious enough to trigger a panic attack, but didn’t wanna actually do or say anything that’d bring his attention to the matter soon to be at hand.

Cocking a brow as he was plating food, the older bassist couldn’t help but wonder what on Earth was going on. As was typical of him, he was already feeling his mate’s Anxiety in typical Empathic fashion, but he couldn’t think of anything that’d make him anxious. Turning to grab Lil Nikki’s and Corona’s plates so he could take them to them, his eye was caught by papers laying on the counter that hadn’t been there before. He couldn’t help his Curiosity as he paused to pick them up, his eyes widening as he scanned over them before looking up at his younger mate.

“Duff, what the–”

Turning to face him, said blonde quite literally swallowed his Anxiety as he picked up the twins’ plates. “We don’t _have_ to go through with it or anything,” he told him.

“Unless I’m losing my mind, these’re adoption papers,” Bobby breathed, gesturing to what he still held.

“You’re not losing your mind, baby,” the younger bassist chuckled, grabbing him for a hug once the kits’d been served.

“Ya–Ya seriously wanna adopt Lil Nikki and Corona?” he asked, his voice still sounding breathy due to his shock.

“I’ve loved them like they were my own since before they were born,” Duff answered, nodding. “Nikki’s already given _his_ seal of approval, so as long as ya give yours, I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t.”

“Wait, is this–” The older bassist’s eyes widened as it suddenly Dawned on him.

“Yeah, this is what he was referencing, both up in Seattle and in front of Axl,” he told him with another nod. “I didn’t realize he’d essentially sat in on my meetings with my attorney about it, though.”

Bobby couldn’t help the tears of Joy that welled up in his eyes as he grabbed him for a hug, quickly pulling him down into a kiss. “I’d be an idiot to tell my second mate he couldn’t adopt my kits as his own, whether they were fathered by my first mate or not.”

_“Mmm,_ I was hoping you’d say something to that effect,” the younger bassist chuckled, gladly Returning the hug and kiss he was given.

Both looked up with a laugh to see both toddlers cocking their heads at them from their high chairs when they heard a pair of curious _Mrews?_ They both knew that the kits were pretty smart cookies, even though they weren’t quite two yet, and were no doubt wondering what was going on. Now, they just had to figure out a way to explain everything to them that’d actually make sense, considering that young age.

Lil Nikki and Corona both listened Intently as Duff reminded them that their daddy’d gone to live with the Faeries before they were born, which made him a Ghostie now. When they nodded and said that they still thought of him as _Daddy,_ though, he Returned the nod as he settled on a bar stool in front of their high chairs. Taking a deep breath, he told them that by getting their mama to sign the papers he was holding since he’d already signed them himself, that’d make him their daddy as far as something called a court was concerned. He wouldn’t be their daddy biologically, ’cuz nothing could Change that, but he’d be their daddy in every other way that counted.

Grinning as his kits’ jaws dropped in surprise, Bobby laughed and signed the aforementioned paperwork with a flourish. Part of him’d always wondered if this Day’d ever come or not, ’cuz he’d known that he loved them from the moment he’d found out about his pregnancy. But at the same Time, a part of him’d thought it never would, ’cuz not every guy on the Planet could love and raise another man’s kids as his own. It was entirely possible that he’d be one of those guys, and therefore wouldn’t wanna adopt the twins as their legal daddy.

The younger bassist laughed as he voiced his Thoughts as he handed the paperwork back to him once it bore both their signatures. He admitted that he’d been a lil iffy on having said paperwork drawn up, but it wasn’t ’cuz he didn’t wanna adopt Lil Nikki and Corona. If he were completely honest with both of them, he hadn’t been sure that he’d want him to adopt his kits, even though they were kinda stuck with each other. Part of him’d thought that he might not want him to so they’d bear their Birth father’s name–which they still could, as far as he was concerned.

Bobby reached up to cup his cheek as he told him that he didn’t consider adopting his kits a slap in the face, as it were, in the slightest. To him, his wanting to adopt them not only said how much he truly loved and wanted to do everything he possibly could for them, it bespoke a level of Dedication and commitment that was hard to find. He wasn’t necessarily saying that Nikki’d lacked that Dedication and commitment–more like he hadn’t gotten the chanceta prove whether he possessed it or not. Short of handfasting with him, he couldn’t think of any other way that’d prove just how dedicated and committed he really was, which was why this meant so much to him. Now, there was no way he could doubt him again going forward–short of Death, which he wasn’t gonna try to speed up for himself, he was gonna be there for them till the End of Time, itself.


	16. Sixteen

_July, 1991_

_Camarillo, California_

Another Year passed, and Life seemed to just get crazier and crazier for the Zorro bassists, even though they’d thought it was settling down at last. Following his resignation from Guns n’ Roses, Duff was content to just stay at home with the twins, whom he’d formally adopted just before their second birthday. That particular news wasn’t shared with even the remains of Mötley Crüe _till_ said birthday, which was really his only Change of plan besides when to talk to his mate about it. Even Tommy and Vince knew he’d pretty much been the only daddy they’d ever known, and once told that Nikki’d given his seal of approval from beyond the grave, they couldn’t really argue with them.

Not long after Lil Nikki’s and Corona’s second birthday in late-July, Poison’d embarked on their third major tour in support of their third album. Even though said album’d been released on the Summer Solstice, they’d postponed the start of the tour by a couple months so Bobby’d get to be home on his babies’ birthday. But after that, it was the first tour he’d embark on while his kits stayed home, and none of them were exactly happy about it. The thing that seemed to make it easier for all of them was that they were gonna be with someone they loved and trusted, who loved them just as much in Return.

But the _Flesh and Blood_ tour was far from pretty right from the get-go, and it was pretty obvious why to all but the one at the Center of the fiasco. Starting before even their first show in Nottingham, England on August fifteenth, CC’s increasing dependence on cocaine became glaringly obvious. Even a two-week break before kicking off the American leg of the tour didn’t do shit to help him–it just made matters even worse.

Time continued to pass, and the older bassist was the one who suffered prolly more than anyone else on the tour did. Every phone call home to talk to his mate and kits included a story of how the guys were seriously making him wanna start drinking again, and how he was fighting that urge. One in particular was about how a fight’d started between himself and the guitarist in a New Orleans bar that November, just Days after his own birthday. After Rikki’d managed to separate them and send the guitarist to cool off, the fight’d broken out again, just between said guitarist and Bret. Next thing any of them knew, they were on their way to their next show in Mobile, Alabama–but their guitarist wasn’t with them. The vocalist’d told him that he could hitchhike there for all he cared, but he wasn’t getting back on that bus with the rest of them.

By the following Spring, they were all at each others’ throats more than they weren’t, Bobby even shifting and baring his teeth at the others a few Times. What finally Ended their tour by cancelling closeta half the remaining dates, though, was said bassist more or less breaking his hand when it got slammed in a car door. He simply couldn’t play–whether it was bass or piano–and taking his painkiller sparingly just so he could get some sleep usually left him too stoned to even try.

“I know, kit–just hold still,” Sirena said, gently holding his wrist once he got home from that disastrous tour, his hand in a cast.

“I can’t help that it fuckin’ hurts since it just happened a week ago!” he snapped.

“Wiggling and squirming while I’m trying to Heal it won’t help that part,” the Elvin woman gently admonished him, knowing he wouldn’t snap at her without a good reason.

“She’s right, kit,” her husband agreed Sagely. “Besides, in all the Years you’ve known us, how many Times’ve either of us Intentionally hurtcha?”

“None,” Bobby answered, clearly sulking where he sat on the couch.

“Then just sit still and trust her,” his mate told him. “I’m right here, and besides, I think you’re scaring the kits.”

One look down in the floor at his now three-Year-old twins made him sigh as he took in their expressions. “Mama’s sorry, babies–my hand just really hurts right now, especially when someone’s touching it.”

“S’otays, Mama,” Lil Nikki said, pushing himself up to toddle over and lay a hand on his knee. “Owies go bye-bye soon.”

“Yesh!” Corona agreed, nodding emphatically as she joined her brother. “Gama make chu hand all betters!”

“If Mama can hold still so I can actually Heal it instead of accidentally hurting it worse,” she chuckled.

“No promises, but I’ll try,” the older bassist sighed.

Even though it still hurt like hell, Bobby managed not to jerk his arm back from her gentle touch as her magick started glittering around his hand and wrist. Just like it always had since he’d met her, it felt warm and tingly as it seeped into him, then started on its current task. He was still amazed by how gentle it was, even as he felt it knitting the hairline fractures in his thumb and fingers–even the back of his hand–back together so they’d never be visible on any Future X-rays.

With her task completed, Sirena started working on cutting off the thick bandages that’d been holding said appendages still for a week. Even though she didn’t necessarily have to be for sake of not causing him any further pain, she was still just as gentle as if those fractures still existed. Moments later, the bandages were gone and his hand on full display in all its sweaty, stinky Glory, which made everybody insist he go shower.

Heaving a sigh as he sank into his bed after a lengthy bath to clean and relax him, the older bassist certainly wasn’t gonna turn down cuddles from his mate and kits. As exhausted as he was from his tour, he knew it’d be at least a couple Days before he even felt up to sex, and Duff more than understood and respected that. Besides, spending Time with the kits now’d convince them to sleep in their own lil toddler beds later, which’d mean no interruptions once he _was_ ready for sex. Not only that, but it’d give them Time for a talk that was just as serious as what Poison was soon to have, just on a far more personal level.

* * *

_November, 1991_

_Studio City, California_

After months of trying to get their guitarist clean, only for thingsta go to the point of no Return and beyond, Poison was still hard at work trying to find a new guitarist. This was the second Time in less than ten Years since the original trio’d come out West that they’d to go through this process, and they could all say that it was no easier this Time around. If anything, it was even harder since whoever they chose’d have some seriously big shoesta even attempt filling, and their fans may not like such a lineup Change.

Waiting at Conway Recording Studios, which was where they’d recorded _Open Up_ a few Years ago and agreed to meet now, Bret and Rikki were jamming with each other to kill Time. They knew that their bassist’d about an hour’s drive to get here from his home, depending on how snarled traffic got, so they knew they’d to be patient with him. However, they didn’t know when or if the guy who was supposed to be auditioning today’d show up since he could easily get lost, if not decide just to not show up at all. None of them wanted that latter scenario to happen, but they knew such a thing was completely outta their hands as they waited.

“Uh, Bret and Rikki, right?”

Glancing up as they stilled cymbals and muted strings, the pair of blondes saw a fairly young-looking brunette who obviously _wasn’t_ their bassist standing in the doorway.

“Yeah, that’s us,” the drummer answered, nodding.

“I’m Richie, the guy that was supposed to be auditioning today,” he said, the Anxiety on his face fading a bit as he actually joined them.

“We’re till waiting on our final band mate,” Bret chuckled. “Doesn’t mean ya can’t tell us a lil about yourself in the meantime, though.”

“I thoughtcha were already here, or that all of ya lived close by,” the young brunette mused, his brow furrowing a bit as he set his guitar case down and settled on one of the provided couches.

“Rikki and I do, but Bobby moved about an hour away a few Years ago,” he explained. “Personal reasons that made him more or less hate the area, before ya ask.”

“I wasn’t gonna,” Richie assured them with a chuckle. “I don’t like others digging into my personal Life, especially behind my back, so I make it a point to _not_ do that to others, if I don’t have to.”

“Can’t say that’s a bad thing,” the drummer told him. “Hell, if anything, I’m curious about how oldja are.”

“Twenty-one till February,” he said, cocking a brow. “Age matter to ya or something?”

“Nah, even though I just turned thirty this Summer,” Rikki laughed. “But the one we’re waiting on–well, you’ll see for yourself when he gets here, but just trust me when I say that he _doesn’t_ look like he’s pushing thirty any more than you do, kid.”

“Really?” That seemed to get the young man’s attention.

“Seriously,” Bret agreed, unable to help a grin. “You’d think he was somewhere between fifteen and twenty at first glance, but he just turned twenty-seven.”

“There’s only a couple types of people I’ve heard of that happening to besides baby-faced humans,” he mused. “My own race, and one that’s pretty similar.”

“Whatcha mean?” the vocalist asked, a curious look of his own coloring his features.

Chuckling almost under his breath, Richie dropped the Glamour he’d been using to hide his tail and ears, revealing that he most certainly _wasn’t_ human. Judging by how that tail wasn’t bushy like their brunette friend’s, they were quick to figure out that he was actually a Neko. Both shot a look at each other, Silently agreeing that one of them oughta be waiting to meet said friend outside so they could gently break the newsta him when he finally arrived.

Naturally, that made the young Neko curious, and they could tell that he really wanted to ask what that look was about. Since Bret’d always been closer with him, he headed off to await their bassist outside, leaving the other blonde to decide how much he oughta share. Luckily, he was quick to make up his mind, but decided that he wasn’t going further than the bare basics since none of them knew this kid.

“Look, nothing against you personally, or even Nekos as a whole,” Rikki started.

“Somehow, I don’t like the sound of that,” he said, starting to sound wary.

“It’s just that–well, we’ve a bad history with one Neko in particular,” the drummer told him. “We’re all kinda biased toward them now, but none of us more so than Bobby.”

“Part of me wantsta ask why, but at the same Time, I already toldja that I make it a point to _not_ do that,” Richie dead-panned.

“The Neko in question was Bobby’s first mate,” he explained. “Long story short, he got into shit he never shoulda, especially with a mate in the picture, and it almost tore Bobby to shreds when he died as a result.”

The young Neko’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as he processed that.

“That’s why I said, it’s nothing againstcha personally,” Rikki reiterated. “But Bret and I don’t really like Nekos after having to watch him go through almost five Years of pure hell with one.”

“And he’ll prolly be even more biased toward me after an experience like that,” he mused, nodding. “Look, I get it, ’cuz I can’t say I’d be any different with that kinda scenario, if it’d happened to me and I _wasn’t_ a Neko.”

“Well, that’s why Bret stepped outside to wait on him,” the drummer said. “To give him a gentle heads-up before he gets in here so that hopefully, he won’t flip his shit on ya.”

“And if he does, now I’ll know at least the bare basics of why and not take offenseta it,” Richie told him. “Not that I really would, anywhore, since I can usually tell when there’s a good reason behind such a reaction.”

Relieved to hear him say that, he looked up toward the door when he heard his friends’ voices coming down the hall toward the studio they were using. From the sounds of things, Bobby’d gotten his due warning about this kid being a Neko, but still wanted to meet him, anywhore. It sounded like the vocalist was making damn sure he was certain about that, considering his history with Nekos, and he definitely seemed to be.

Walking into the lounge where they’d been hanging out, said bassist studied his fellow brunette curiously, and he got more or less the same look in Return. Granted, they were studying each other so closely for two completely different reasons, but that was beside the point. They were both tuning into their Animal instincts as they sized each other up, and those reasons’d be pretty clear shortly. After all, the older brunette wasn’t shy about saying when he didn’t like someone–not after what he’d gone through with Nikki. His younger counterpart wouldn’t have been able to hide _his_ reason for very long, even if he’d wanted to–which he didn’t.

Surprised when Richie actually got up and dared to approach him, the blondes quite literally held their breath as they stayed close enough to physically separate them, if need be. Both watched as the brunettes sniffed each other the same way a pair of Animals would in the Wild, hoping they weren’t about to see a fight break out. None of them were expecting what came next, the bassist being the last who woulda thought such a thing could possibly happen in this Lifetime.

“Fuck me, nekkid and runnin’–you’ve gorgeous Chocolate eyes.”


	17. Seventeen

The aforementioned Chocolate eyes widened in surprise as Bobby simply stared at the young Neko before him. He couldn’t help a couple flashbacksta that Night almost nine Years ago when he’d met Nikki, knowing exactly what that kinda reaction meant. There wasn’t a doubt in the Darkest corners of his mind that this kid had just found his mate–and judging by what he’d said, _he_ was that mate.

Biting his lip nervously, Richie took a couple steps back as he realized that he’d prolly just fucked up without even meaning to. He couldn’t help wanting to somehow admit that he’d suddenly started seeing in Color, which was indicative of that Life-Changing event he’d been looking forward to all his Life. Course, he shoulda known that that prolly wouldn’t go over so well with this man–and it’d everything to do with the fact that one of them was a Neko, the other a Zorro. If he’d already been mated to and seriously hurt by one Neko, he prolly thought that any others’d do the same thing to him.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, the bassist moved to settle on the couch next to his younger counterpart. He was grateful that his friends were still there and more than willing to offer their support, both of them knowing what was going through his head without having to ask. But even as they offered that support to him, they kept quiet so he could tell his own story for himself, which’d prolly be better. Neither’d try to speak for him unless he asked them to, and he was grateful for that since he needed to do this, himself.

“When didja start seeing in Color, kid?” he asked, even though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

“Not till you walked in,” the younger brunette answered. “Damn, I didn’t realize that both your friends were blue-eyed blondes.”

“Yeah, we are,” Rikki laughed. “Granted, my eyes’ve a lil green in them, whereas Bret’s are Sky-blue.”

“I can see that, as long as you’re decently close,” Richie told him, sounding contemplative as he turned back to his fellow brunette. “I’m guessing you’re curious just to be damn sure about what I’m sensing?”

“Yeah, ’cuz I don’t have that cue,” Bobby chuckled. “I’ve been seeing in Color for Years now.”

His eyes widened as he processed that fact, knowing what it meant.

“I’m not gonna get into all of it–not here at the studio, anywhore,” the bassist said. “But I started seeing in Color in March of 1983–the Night I met my late mate.”

“Rikki told me ya were kinda biased toward Nekos and mentioned that your mate’d died,” he admitted. “I haven’t asked about anything beyond that, though, ’cuz I hate it when others talk about me behind my back, so I try to refrain from doing that to others.”

“Biased is an understatement, I think,” Bobby chuckled dryly. “Hell, I’m almost as biased toward my own race, no thanksta my second mate.”

The younger brunette’s eyes widened as he realized what he was getting at. “You’re saying that I’m your _third_ mate?”

“If ya didn’t start seeing in Color till I walked in, yeah.” He nodded, unable to help wringing his hands slightly.

“I didn’t think such a thing could happen,” Richie said. “I mean, my parents’re both a Century old, give or take, and they’ve never told me about such a thing.”

“Oh, it _can_ happen–it’s just extremely rare,” he laughed. “My first mate’s stepgrampa’s over two Centuries now, and he told me he’s only seen it happen twice in his Lifetime.”

“Sweet Goddess,” the younger brunette breathed. “But were _all_ the mates in question still alive?”

Shaking his head, Bobby told him that the way the tale’d been recounted to him, all the mates involved had been alive in only one of those stories. In the other, it’d been more like his own story–one mate’d been Graced with multiple mates, but’d outlived at least one of them. Other than that, even he didn’t know that many details, and he hadn’t bothered asking for them since he doubted he’d get them.

Looking up at his friends and band mates, the bassist said that it was prolly better to either let him audition at a later Time, or simply move it to his own house. Bret and Rikki both nodded, agreeing that he might not be the type who wanted to or even could mix his personal and business Lives. If he _could_ mix them cohesively, it was prolly better to wait anywhere from a couple Daysta at least a week, if not longer. They both knew that they’d a lot to talk about as mates–that there were a lotta things he was about to learn that was gonna flip his Life upside-down–and he was gonna need Time to process it all.

Richie was agreeable to moving this lil powwow to his older counterpart’s house, even though it meant an hour’s ride West since he currently didn’t have the gasta drive out there. He just wanted to call his roommate and let them know that he may or may not be home that Night, depending on how long he was with his potential new band. There was no need to worry the poor guy when he didn’t show up, which he knew’d send him on a Cat-hunt for at least his car, if nothing else.

Pulling into his side of the two-bay garage just over an hour later, Bobby couldn’t help his Anxiety as he yanked up his E-brake and killed the motor. He hadn’t breathed a word about the twinsta this kid any more than his blonde friends had, if only ’cuz he wasn’t sure _how_ to break such newsta him. Not only that, but he hadn’t breathed a word about Duff also waiting for him back home, and he knew that he’d assumed he’d also lost a second mate, despite being so young.

The rest of the guys climbed outta Bret’s car where it was parked so it blocked in his own, said blonde pausing to raise the seat so the youngest of them could climb out. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves as he walked out to the driveway so he could at least try to give him some forewarning, knowing how his kits could be as soon as he got home from much of anywhere.

“Don’t mind any messes that’ve been made at some point today,” the older bassist chuckled, obviously sounding nervous.

“Hey, we can’t all keep a house as spotless as a hospital,” he chuckled.

“That’s not quite what I meant,” Bobby admitted. “But it’s no doubt gonna be quite the surprise for ya, either way.”

The younger brunette simply cocked a brow at him, making him sigh.

“Let’s just go inside, rather than more or less talking about this on the street,” he told them.

“Sounds like as good a plan as any to me,” Richie agreed, nodding as they followed him.

The older bassist could already hear laughter and squealing before he even pulled out his keysta unlock the door that led to what he called the laundry hall. Most of that laughter was obviously juvenile, and he knew that it was coming from his adorable lil kits as they played. Part of it was obviously that of a mature male, so while he knew it was coming from his second mate, he wasn’t entirely sure why.

But the second he opened that connecting door, all that laughter stopped and it was so quiet that one could hear a pin drop throughout the house. Moments later, two familiar faces peeked around the edge of the archway that led to the family room, which made him grin as he stepped far enough inside to admit the others behind him. Seconds later, those same lil faces let out elated squeals as they ran to him, their arms wrapping around his legs as they collided with them. He couldn’t help a laugh as he managed to pry them loose so he could kneel down, which allowed him to actually hug them like they all wanted.

Naturally, Duff was curious about what was going on since he’d expected his mate to be gone a lot longer than this today and quickly appeared in that same archway. He nodded to the pair of blondes that he recognized, who nodded in Return as the twins turned their attention to them. But he didn’t know who the final young man was, just that he was obviously a Neko Dom, based on what he was catching on the unfamiliar scent wafting over to him.

“You’re back a lot earlier than I thought you’d be, baby,” he said, gladly pulling his mate into a possessive hug once he rose and came over to him.

“Ran into a bit of a complication, as far as any auditions go, love,” Bobby chuckled. He purposely ignored the Energy he could feel radiating off that final man as he gave him a quick kiss.

“Oh, ho?” The younger bassist cocked a brow as he glanced down at him.

“Something I’m not excluding ya from since it’s gonna turn even _your_ Life upside-down to a certain extent,” he said, then looked down at the twins. “Why don’t chu two boogers take chu uncles upstairs and show them the pretty pictures chu drew for them?”

“Otays, Mama!” Lil Nikki grinned as he grabbed the drummer’s hand. “C’mon, Unca Rikki!”

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’!” he laughed, letting the boy drag him into the foyer and over to the stairs.

“Ya sure you’re gonna be all right?” Bret asked as he hefted Corona up to snuggle against his chest.

“I think we both know Duff’ll kick his ass, if he tries anything stupid,” the older bassist chuckled, nodding. “And if he doesn’t, then I’ll turn the two of ya loose on him full-tilt.”

“Works for me,” he agreed, smirking at the giant Irishman. “A word of advice–don’t have anything near your mouth while they’re talking to ya. I don’t think any of us’re up to date on our CPR certification, so I don’t wanna have to even try to save your ass, man.”

“That’s assuming a certain household Ghostie didn’t save me–again,” Duff dead-panned as he headed off with the lil girl. “So, what the hell’s going on, baby?”

“Let’s just go sit down so I don’t have to clean brains up off the floor,” his mate chuckled.

Nodding, the younger bassist allowed himself to be pulled into the family room, where he settled on the couch that faced the back yard. Bobby settled on it next to him, shooting a smile at the second brunette that was a mixture of nervous and reassuring. He couldn’t help his Curiosity as said brunette settled in the arm chair across the coffee table from them, especially since he didn’t like the jealous look glittering in his Sea-blue eyes as they all made themselves comfortable.

“There’s really no easy way to say this, love,” the older bassist said.

“I’m listening, even if I’m not liking having a Neko in my house,” he told him.

“This Neko’s name’s Richie,” Bobby said. “He’s the one who was supposed to be auditioning for us today.”

“A pleasure–I think,” the younger brunette drawled. “I’ll make a better judgment once I’ve whatever figurative puzzle pieces I’m missing.”

“At least we can agree on that, if nothing else right now,” Duff agreed.

“Well, that missing puzzle piece, as ya put it…” The older bassist laced his fingers with that of his blonde mate as he took a deep, steadying breath. “I found out about three Years ago that Duff’s my second mate, and not exactly under good circumstances.”

Richie’s eyes widened as something suddenly clicked for him. “It wasn’t long after your first mate passed, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t.” He shook his head as he squeezed his mate’s hand, which was quickly Returned, despite his obvious confusion. “Duff’s been there for me through shit he shouldn’t have had to be, and I can’t thank him enough for that–even when I wanna bean him over the head with something like I did last Year.”

Said blonde was still confused, but chose not to ask since he knew his mate’d explain all in his own good Time.

“Duff, the reason I’m even telling him this shit–it’s ’cuz _he’s_ also my mate,” Bobby told him.

“Wait, _what?”_ His jaw dropped. “Ya gotta be shitting me, baby.”

Shaking his head, the older bassist told him that while he didn’t have the visual cue of being able to see in Color outta nowhere, the younger brunette _did_ have that cue. He swore up and down, sideways and backwards that he hadn’t been able to see in Color till he’d walked in the room after Bret’d stopped him outside the studio. As a full-blooded Zorro in his own right, he knew damn good and well that such a thing’d happen, if a Neko or Zorro either one was already mated, but found out they’d another mate on top of that.

Turning his attention to the younger brunette, Duff couldn’t help wondering how much he knew about their shared mate’s Past, and he wasn’t hesitant in asking. He wasn’t surprised that none of the others–not even Bret and Rikki–had told him anything beyond the fact that there was a now-deceased Neko involved. It was a hard topic for his mate to talk about, and with good reason, so his friends didn’t talk about it for him, either.

Bobby couldn’t resist squeezing his blonde mate’s hand as he turned his attention back to Richie, who still seemed as confused as he did surprised. Not about to lie to him, he fully Intended to tell him the Truth about why he was biased toward Nekos more than he wasn’t now. He just wasn’t sure if he’d actually be able to get the words out on his own, or if he’d have to get the giant of an Irishman next to him to be his physical voice. Either way, he’d get the answers he was no doubt dying for at this point, so he didn’t suppose it really mattered exactly who told what part.

“I toldja before we headed here that I started seeing in Color in March of 1983,” he finally said.

“Yeah, and I figured that was when ya met your first mate–the one who passed,” Richie mused, nodding as he shifted in his seat slightly.

“And you’d be right,” the older bassist told him with a nod of his own. “That was all of a week after I moved out here from the Harrisburg area with the guys so we could get Poison off the ground.”

He simply nodded, not even gesturing for him to continue as he waited patiently.

“That first mate I met that Night–he was Nikki Sixx,” Bobby finally said, unable to help a whimper at the memories that just saying his name Invoked.

“Breathe, baby,” the younger bassist murmured, grabbing him for a hug as their guest’s eyes widened so much, they looked like they’d pop outta his skull.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” said guest breathed in shock. “Ya were actually mated to…?”

Nodding, the older bassist tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “He was also a Neko, only twenty-four when we met. I was practically a baby, ’cuz I was nineteen that Night and had pretty much no Worldly experienceta speak of.”

Richie couldn’t help a wince, nor the desire to get up so he could kneel down next to him.

“We were together for almost five Years, and he put me through absolute hell the whole Time,” Bobby said. “It started out as just coke, but after his wreck a few months after we met… Well, I’m not sure if I blame his dislocated shoulder, or his fucked-up kittenhood for getting him hooked on smack more.”

The younger brunette winced as he took his free hand and gently squeezed it.

“I tried to convince him to get cleaned up, that no amount of pain–physical, Emotional, or otherwise–was worth what he was doing to himself,” he continued. “Then I found out…”

“He found out that he was pregnant the Day before Nikki came back from his last handful of shows over in Japan,” Duff continued when he whimpered again and shot a look at him.

Their guest’s eyes widened again. “So, those two cuties–”

“They’re Nikki’s son and daughter, Lil Nikki and Corona,” he answered, nodding. “The last pieces of him that anyone’ll ever have, and he didn’t even get to meet them.”

The younger bassist recalled the Night that he’d gotten the call from the cops, saying that two of his band mates were in custody on drug charges. He’d been horrified to find out that they might even get charged with murder, depending on the results of their ensuing investigation. When they’d finally told him that Nikki Sixx was the one who was dead, it was like his brain momentarily short-circuited before rebooting.

Knowing damn good and well that he was mated to Bobby, his first instinct’d been to try getting in touch with the other Zorro. He hadn’t been entirely sure he’d wanna see anyone that’d been friends with his mate, but he knew he’d to try, ’cuz losing a mate was never easy. Unfortunately, he’d kept himself locked up in his home with only his own band allowed entry, so he hadn’t gotten to see him till the Day of the fallen bassist’s funeral. At that point, he looked like he hadn’t slept in a month, so he’d pulled Bret aside to find out how he was holding up, rather than ambushing him.

If he’d known that he’d just found out he was pregnant before that moment, Duff swore he’d have knocked his front door down to see him, if that’s what it’d taken. But he’d only known that he’d just lost his mate, so he hadn’t realized just how much harder he really had it at the Time. When he found out, he’d waited till they were carrying Nikki’s casket out to the hearseta be taken to the graveyard his grama was buried in, then finally made his move.

“I realized as soon as I grabbed him for that hug that he and I were mated,” he said. “But knowing how much he already had on his plate, I didn’t wanna be pushy.”

“Prolly for the best,” Richie agreed, nodding. “I mean, between finding out he was pregnant, then losing their father almost immediately afterward–yeah, it prolly wasn’t the best thing to ambush him with.”

“Didn’t take him long to figure it out, though,” the younger bassist chuckled. “I mean, it’s pretty noticeable when ya go to bed seeing in black-and-white, but wake up seeing in Color again.”

“Yeah, I lost my Color sight there for a while after Nikki died,” Bobby chuckled, reaching up to brush away the tears that’d welled up. “I thought I’d lost the only thing that really mattered to me, and I guess my grief kept me from having that telltale sign with Duff right off the bat.”

“Sounds plausible,” he agreed. “I mean, this is really the first story of losing a mate I’ve heard, but I can see how and why such a thing’d happen to someone who’d to suffer that loss.”

“So Naturally, I didn’t wanna see that kinda thing happen again,” the older bassist continued. “Only to damn near lose my second mate to substances when I put my boot down on that behavior.”

“Yeah, I was trying to Self-medicate panic disorder with alcohol and the occasional smack,” Duff admitted. “When you’re on that kinda shit, pretty much the only thing that’ll wake ya up in the Morns is coke and crack, ’cuz nothing else’s strong enough.”

“I’m not even sure I should ask,” the younger brunette said warily.

Bobby admitted that it wasn’t exactly a pretty picture, considering that he’d Intended to temporarily break up with him so he’d get help. Given what he’d been through with his first drunken addict of a mate, it was understandable that he wouldn’t wanna be put through that again. At the same Time, it was reasonable to think that just ’cuz he’d gotten through that kinda scenario once didn’t mean he could do it again, especially without another special someone to lean on during that Time.

Still, Richie was horrified when they explained what’d happened to the younger bassist just last Year as a result of his heavy drinking. He was even more horrified to find out that without a supernatural hand in his recovery, he prolly wouldn’t have made it outta that crisis alive. Then again, it certainly explained his saying that he was damn near biased against his own race in addition to being biased against Nekos.

Heaving a sigh, the younger brunette admitted that while he drank occasionally, he didn’t tend to take it very far when he did. In fact, the one Time he’d gotten black-out drunk, he’d felt so awful as he fought his way through the ensuing hangover that he swore he wouldn’t do it again–and he hadn’t. But if his mate really didn’t want him to drink _at all,_ it wasn’t like it was something he’d need to go to rehab to get help for. Putting down the bottle in favor of picking up his guitar–or any of the other multitude of instruments he played, for that matter–was a relatively easy thing for him to do, and he was more than willing to. If it meant keeping his mate and not putting him through hell like Nikki’d done, he was willing to do just about anything for him.

Both bassists heaved a sigh of relief as he further reassured them that he’d never been interested in even trying anything illicit since his own move out West from Penn. He’d been more interested in making Music and releasing solo albums in the past few Years, so he’d simply steered clear of crowds known for indulging in that garbage. They wouldn’t have to put up with his antics, nor worry about him triggering their own bad habits that they’d managed to kick. And that also meant that Duff wouldn’t have to kick his ass later, nor would he’ve to get the older brunette through the loss of a second mate far too soon for their Lifetimes.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I can't remember the author's name off the top of my head for the Life of me–I guess that means I read _waaaay_ too much for my own good sometimes. LOL!
> 
> Anywhore, this idea popped into mind after I read a Nikki Sixx/Tommy Lee one-shot by the title of _Colorblind,_ so no, I'm not Intentionally ripping anyone off. Being a muse is one thing, but ripping someone else's hard work off is another, and well I know the difference. If anyone else's read and remembers the one-shot I'm talking about, please feel free to refresh my memory on its author's name–I'd rather give full credit where it's due than not.  
> ~Firefly


End file.
